


The Ups and Downs of Trying Something New

by headraline



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Human AU, I would love to blame discord for this, M/M, More characters to come, Other, Pole Dancing AU, aerialist Jericrew, and disaster gays, ballet dancer Connor, but it's all me this time, fuckin' represent, pole dancer Markus, poles for days
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2019-10-27 00:07:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 32,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17756141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/headraline/pseuds/headraline
Summary: Ever since he can remember, Connor has always loved ballet, has always loved dancing in general.A pole dancing studio may or may not be more than he bargained for.





	1. Turning over a new leaf

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lisa_Lisa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lisa_Lisa/gifts).



> Okay y'all.
> 
> WE'RE DOING THIS.  
> It's been a long time coming. And now it's here.
> 
> I _strongly_ recommend clicking on all the links and watching the videos as you read along, it'll make things easier to understand if you've never done pole-dancing or gymnastics before.  
> I probably won't be able to update as fast as my usual, because I'm also writing my own stuff right now, but we'll see.  
> IDK, just take this.
> 
> I love you all.

Ever since he can remember, Connor has loved dancing.

He loved watching videos of his mother on stage as a kid, he loved trying to imitate the moves, he wouldn’t fall asleep unless his father played him at least a few minutes of Swan Lake. He was made of fun more than once as a child and a teen for taking up ballet, but his father always supported him and his close friends assured him he was great.

And he _was_ pretty good— upholding proudly the memory of his mother by being the youngest student from Detroit Windsor Dance Academy to ever qualify for the New York International Ballet Competition.

He placed third, but Hank still celebrated him like he won the freaking world cup –to this day, his father knows that those three weeks in New York were likely the happiest in Connor’s life.

By the time Connor was 23, several ballet companies across the Country already were salivating at the prospect of having such a promising young talent in their ranks.

Until a truck driver slipping on an ice patch ruined everything for them.

To be fair, it wasn’t the man’s fault –the weather was dreadful and try as he might he couldn’t regain control of the vehicle… but he hit Hank’s car on the passenger seat’s side, and Connor’s right leg was crushed for a good thirty minutes, until the first responders managed to pull him out.

There’s a reason why Connor hates winter nowadays.

He’s 27 now, and despite having largely stopped dancing at competitive levels, he still loves to watch ballet and any other sort of art form involving bodies and music –the doctors told him he would eventually go back to full functionality, but that it would take a long time.

Sadly, professional ballet and long waits don’t go hand in hand.

Not that it stops Connor from occasionally pushing all the furniture in his living room against a wall and giving his close friends a private show, whenever his knee doesn’t feel _too_ sore.

“Hey, Connor! Plans for tonight?”

He gets startled out of his thoughts by Chloe’s voice. “Not really. Any crazy schemes I should be privy to?”

It’s a legitimate question: his sweet-looking blonde friend is actually a mastermind in disguise. She’s the one who spurred him to take the teaching job at the same school she works at; and that’s how he’s got a class of fourteen young aspiring dancers, all looking up to him.

Chloe smiles, flutters her eyelashes at him slightly, then looks to the side. _Definitely_ up to something. “Well… Elijah has tickets for this event at the Daryl Roth theater called _Dance With The Devil_ …” oh, she knows how to bait him all too well, “It’s supposedly unlike any ordinary dance performance.”

“Cut to the chase, Chloe, am I going to be a third wheel?”

“Of course not! Celine is also going to be there.”

Ah yes. Two identical twin sisters with the same initials. Not confusing at all. Still, it’s a solid reason to come hang out and they know he never says no to the chance of seeing something new and beautiful.

He shakes his head to himself. “Fine. But I have a morning class tomorrow, so no bar-hopping afterwards!”

“Deal!” Really, she shouldn’t be allowed to smile so innocently after all the shit she pulls off. “Pick you up at seven!”

 

The theater is not overly big, but it’s cozy and the staff is lovely and efficient. According to the event pamphlet, dancers from several different schools came together for this, and a third of the profits will go to a charity association in support of homeless youth, so there’s that.

The first part of the show has already been brilliant so far, incorporating break-dance and acrobatics instead of having the usual, ‘boring’ styles; then a twenty minute break was announced and Connor takes his chance to get a bathroom break while he can –it’s very likely that they pulled the curtain because whoever comes next will need props and they need the time to assemble them.

Lost in his thought as he is, Connor doesn’t notice his feet bringing him to the staff washrooms rather than the customers’ ones. At least, not until he practically bumps into a man who was still toweling chalk off his hands.

“Oh—”

“Hey! You alright?”

Connor has to blink himself out of his stupor before he can answer –he can’t figure out whether or not it’s contacts, but the man in front of him has one green eye and the other blue.

“I— yes.” He assures meekly, “I probably shouldn’t be here.”

“It’s okay, it can be our secret.” The performer winks at him with a complicit smile. And Connor can _tell_ he’s a performer, what with the heavily lined eyes, the all black stage outfit and the chalk residue still on his wrists. “Are you enjoying the show so far?”

Slightly confused at the stranger’s talkativeness, Connor nods.

“Good.” He says, “I’ll leave you to your break, then… It’s almost my turn. You don’t wanna miss it!”

The stranger takes his leave with one more wink, and Connor stands there wondering what the hell just happened for a solid minute. Why could he not take his eyes off him as he walked away?

He looks at his reflection as he still can clearly remember every movement of the stranger’s defined back.

Oh, right. Still gay.

He makes it back to his seat just in time for the curtain to reopen.

“Where were you?” Chloe whispers to him, “This is supposed to be the best part!”

“I got lost. I’ll explain later.” He whispers back, focusing his attention on the stage just as the lights illuminate it.

Oh, gosh.

There are two poles at the sides, and a beautiful red-headed girl in a black dress sitting on a chair at center stage. [Tango](https://youtu.be/r-j7iaQLkms?t=14) music starts playing, and the performer Connor had bumped into a few minutes earlier walks towards her.

They look at each other with rapture; he kneels to kiss her hand…

Then he takes the chair out from under her and pretends to lock her wrist in a lever.

She tumbles forward in a frontflip and then pirouettes into his arms so they can actually start dancing together. Ah— Connor recognizes the music now: _Assassin’s Tango_. Very clever.

They spend the whole first minute of their routine pulling off pretend-fighting between their dance moves, right up to the moment when the man with the different colored eyes rips off the girl’s skirt and gives one last, longing caress to her leg while she rips off one of his shirt sleeves.

At that point the music changes, and each takes a pole.

The first part of their choreography is synchronized; they both kick their legs around the pole in a wide fan until they can land and then jump backwards in a pole-assisted flip. Connor straightens in his seat to watch more intently as both performers climb their respective pole and then swing out for an aerial pirouette, ending it in a wide flag to the side.

Each takes a different spin after jumping down, but they do meet in the middle for a passionate embrace.

And _oh boy_ , is it passionate.

He grabs her by the thigh and guides her leg in a wide arc until she can hook it over his knee and be let down to lie on the floor, right on cue when the song says _‘you can’t trust a cold-blooded man’_.

The moment she hooks her hands over his neck while he crawls forward over her form, still fully dressed and without touching her, is more sensual than most of the porn Connor watched in his teenage years.

Not to mention the perfect handstand he pulls, not five inches from her head.

Connor is _definitely_ paying attention now.

The stranger picks up the girl and effortlessly throws her back towards the static pole, but she stops him by lifting a foot on his shoulder when he tries to get near her, and uses him as a pivot to pretend-kick him in the face and flip herself around.

Their cooperation is seamless, even to the untrained eye, but even more so for Connor –he has been on the other side of the stage and knows that these two have their routine calculated to the millimeter.

The two briefly separate again, as he goes ahead and climbs the spinning pole all the way to the top, where he just _flips upside down_ and waits for her, holding himself to the pole by his folded knees.

She climbs and takes the hands he had outstretched for her; and in a masterful show of trust she just lets go of her legs, and they spin together in a joint figure.

But clearly hanging off the ground hand in hand would be too easy, so she jumps down, rests her shoulder against the pole, and uses it as a pivot to lift herself up and upside down, so he can grab her by the feet instead and they will face opposite sides as they spin.

If the poles were not enough, come the wind-down the stranger pulls down a rope as his lovely red-headed partner dances in front of him –very clever, Connor notes, she catches the audience’s attention while he makes sure the prop his secure before hooking his hand in.

Their next figures are a next level of crazy, as he holds her up and they spin even faster after he kicks off and around the pole. She threads herself through his arms as if flying, and he changes position in reaction to her every move.

At one point, she is literally hanging off his arms by the legs, while he supports her entire weight and his own against the pole.

Connor does spot the moment they use to catch their breath, though: he stops the spinning and waits for her to come to him after striking a pose by his side; and the audience is well distracted by the way she leaps on him and throws a leg around his waist to notice their chests rising and falling as the girl’s turn to spin on the rope comes.

They never once break eye contact, and they’re once more nearly nose to nose when he catches at the waist to stop her.

For the finale, it would seem that he will be the one tied to the rope after all— he jumps up against the pole and hooks one foot in the rope, swinging and spinning upside down around his partner, as she threads herself through his legs and even rests her hips on his calf to pose in a perfect split.

The last few verses ring out, and she makes a show of crumbling to the floor while he kicks out to make himself spin faster. Only when the very last verse winds down the two meet again: he picks her up from where she’s lying on the ground; and they ride out the last of their momentum together, she in a beautiful arched figure and him floating above her, his lips nearly touching her clavicle.

_‘You can’t trust a cold-blooded… lover.’_

Chloe was right. Connor has never seen anything like it.

There’s a split second of shocked silence before the audience actually explodes in applause.

Connor is among the first people to stand up for the two performers in appreciation, before the act can continue with the next ones.

 

Against his better judgment, he gives in to his friends’ pleading and stays, at least for a while, at the theater bar to have a couple drinks.

“But just a couple! No more!”

Surprisingly enough, Elijah agrees. “Suit yourself. At least I’ll have a sober one to keep me company, since I’m designated driver, tonight.”

“Oh, quiet Elijah. Literally none of us except you is that bad!” Celine delivers the jab with a sweet look and a clink against her sister’s glass.

Not for the first time, Connor is thankful for his friends –they can seem strange to most, but it’s been a hard, work-dense week, and he really needed the distraction. Not to mention the entire show was amazing; he caught himself leafing through the program to find out more about the pole performers that took his breath away.

Well… one more than the other.

_Aerialist duet:_

_Jericho Dance and Fitness Academy_

_Performers: North Jelena Larionova, Markus Manfred_

 

He chuckles to himself as he looks at the brochure yet again— of course she would be from somewhere in Eastern Europe. Eastern European athletes are incredible.

“Connor. Connor! Act natural, babe alert to your three hundred.” That would be Chloe whispering to him as someone approaches the bar.

The newcomer clearly hasn’t seen them, and just orders a round of four beers to bring back to his table, but Connor recognizes the voice.

“They have you running refill, eh, Markus?” The bartender seems familiar with him –it must not be the first time they perform here.

“You know us dancers…” he shrugs one shoulder, “We make our bets and like to stick to them.”

True. Not following through with penance is generally considered poor luck by those who believe in it. Connor chances a sideways glance and… the baggy hoodie and blue jeans do not show off the man’s toned form the way his stage outfit did, but there’s no mistaking those eyes.

“Oh hey! You found your way out eventually!” Damn it, Connor must be rustier than he thought at this, he’s been caught staring. “Did you enjoy the show?”

He can practically feel his friends’ gazes searing through the back of his head, and the worst of it all? Having Elijah sober to see and remember this. Might as well own up to it right now.

“I did, Markus, it was an astonishing performance.”

That prompts a smile from the performer. It’s a really nice smile. “Oh? I seem to be caught at a disadvantage, in our brief exchange I didn’t get your name…”

“It’s really unimportant, I was just—”

“ _Connor_ here was just telling me how incredible your choreography was!” There she is. Chloe will not let him get away without talking to the very attractive man he has absolutely zero chance with. “And he doesn’t dish out that kind of praise easily, you know? He’s a ballet dancer!”

Like everyone else who meets Chloe, Markus clearly already loves her. “Really?”

“S-she’s exaggerating.” Connor intercepts, “I used to compete when I was a teenager, but after a freak accident I’ve stopped. I just teach ballet to children, now.”

“I’m sorry to hear about your injury.” Markus says, with an unexpectedly heartfelt voice. “Was it very bad?”

Connor shrinks in his shoulders a little. “Not really, but it kept me off the floor for a year.” He tells, not exactly knowing _why_ he is telling his story to a semi-stranger. It’s possibly the ingrained sense of familiarity with a fellow dancer. “Professional ballet doesn’t _do_ year-long waits.”

The performer nods in understanding, before taking a breath and turning to him. “You know what never stops waiting? Your own body. I’m willing to bet you still dance for yourself every now and then.”

Of course he’d be able to tell. If you really love dancing, it never leaves you. They lock eyes, and for a few seconds they seem to be sharing that thought –the boundless, undying passion for the art of moving with the music.

“You know… some of us have been beaten up quite badly over the years.” Markus eventually says, never breaking eye-contact, “If you don’t already have a gym you go to regularly, you could come take a look. At least to one of the yoga classes.”

“I… don’t think…” Connor really doesn’t know what to answer to that, because on one hand he would _love_ to see Markus again and watch him perform up close, but on the other hand… joining a gym and smacking his face against the possibility of never being his 100% again? How to make that choice?

“You guys have yoga classes? I’ve been wanting to try for ages!” the mastermind strikes again. Well, the mastermind’s sister, this time. Celine also joins the conversation and beams innocently up at Markus. “Do you have a card, or something?”

Even Markus is mildly taken aback by the force of nature that are Chloe and Celine combined.

“Um, sure…” he pulls a business card out of his hoodie pocket and offers it to Celine, but she shakes her head and nudges Connor with her martini glass.

“Connor would you keep it safe for me? I don’t have any pockets in this stupid dress.”

Everyone in a ten mile radius can tell what the sisters are trying to do; and Connor just takes the card with a resigned sigh.

Markus lets out an amused chuckle and bows his head slightly to her. “For what it’s worth, it’s a lovely dress, miss.”

She was about to answer, but a voice calling from a nearby table interrupts them:

“Hey, _Ass_ anova! How about you go around flirting _after_ you brought us our drinks?”

There is something glorious about the pretty, petite redhead being the one to let out such an aggravated yell. Markus actually laughs out loud; and Connor struggles not to follow suit.

“Your girlfriend is calling.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.” Markus corrects, gathering up the glasses all the same, “But she will be very angry if I don’t go back with drinks, so… until next time?”

“Sure.”

Connor is still smiling as he watches the performer walk back to his table, greeted with calls of ‘finally’ and ‘took you long enough’ by his friends. When he turns back to his own friends, he sees a knowing smile on Chloe’s face, laced with mischief and a hint of pride.

“…What?”

“Very smooth, Connor.” Is all she has to offer.

He is still confused. “I’m sorry, what?”

Elijah, who had been content to watch the exchange silently until now, chooses that moment to pipe in: “That last comment was perfectly placed to verify whether our comely dancer friend was actually taken or not. _Bravo_ , Connor.”

Oh. He hadn’t actually thought about that.

Not consciously.

Who is he kidding? He totally thought about that. He clears his voice slightly and goes to have a sip of his drink. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake, Connor!” Chloe seems to have had enough, and she grabs him by both shoulders to look at him right in the eyes: “Nevermind the _bona fide sex god_ who tried chatting you up just now, don’t you think it would do you some good to try something new? To show yourself you can still actually enjoy it?”

“I can come with you.” Celine offers with an encouraging smile. “I was not lying about trying yoga, you know?”

“You could also be doing this for the chance to meet hot dancer girls.”

They all laugh at that, and the blonde in question doesn’t deny it. “Can you blame me? Come on, it can be both!”

 

Signing up for a tester class through the gym’s website is surprisingly easy; Connor and Celine agree on a Tuesday afternoon and sign up for a 90 minutes aerial yoga session.

Hank is overjoyed to hear that Connor is finally doing something for himself again, and he even teases him about all the instagram videos he will bother them all with once, he gets a good routine going.

Finding the gym is also not a problem, it’s literally a five minute walk from the subway station, so there’s that. The fact that it’s apparently at basement level of the building they’re in is a little surprising, but then again if they really do all the disciplines listed on the website, they need ceilings at least 5 meters high.

“Hello, welcome to Jericho!” a deep voice from the reception booth makes both him and Celine jump. “May I take your names to confirm your attendance?”

Holy shit, this guy is a _mountain_.

“Um, I’m Connor. This is Celine… we’re here for the… five p.m. aerial yoga class?”

“Let me see, Connor… and Celine. Gotcha. I’m Luther.” The receptionist smiles at them, giving off Gentle Giant vibes, “There’s the changing room over there, I hope you don’t mind it’s mixed… bathrooms are to the left of here. You’re a bit early, so if you don’t know what to do while you wait, you can go inside Studio 1 and watch the tail-end of the class just before you. Markus won’t mind.”

Getting changed for the two of them is more a matter of shedding outer layers than anything else, they take off their shoes, hang their coats and sweaters; and they share one of the free lockers where Celine leaves her purse and Connor his wallet and phone.

Music is playing quite loudly from behind Studio 1’s door and Connor is already filled with giddiness— Chloe was right: he missed this.

He missed the feeling of walking barefoot on wooden floors, the immediate area of camaraderie with complete strangers just because you’re all there going through the grinder together, the shared bits of chalk to rub between your hands… he missed dancing, _really_ dancing.

Beyond the door, though, a completely different picture from the one they saw at the theater awaits.

“Come in! Come on in!” Markus assures, gesturing to the left-most corner of the room. “Have a seat, we’re almost done here, and Simon is going to come for yoga soon. Ladies, you don’t mind a small audience for the freestyle, do you?”

Markus is speaking with all the ease in the world, as if he wasn’t wearing [jet black platform heels](https://ae01.alicdn.com/kf/HTB1TycrKpXXXXXSXXXXq6xXFXXXm/14-5CM-Platforms-Super-High-Heel-Shoes-Pole-Dance-Model-Shoes-Womens-Boots-Free-Shipping.jpg_640x640.jpg) that brought his already impressive stature to whole new levels, with only a skimpy pair of black yoga shorts and knee guards to match. Chancing a glance around the room, all the women in the class are equipped with more or less the same kind of shoes.

Running the website’s schedule through his head, Connor figures this must be one of those ‘Filthy Floor Fatale’ classes.

Oh, he is _so_ screwed.

Having received only reassurances from his students, Markus restarts the song in a loop and takes his position at the front pole. “Ready? Five, six, seven, eight!”

If the way Markus danced back at the theater was sensual, [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2SFlZpFMTWM) is downright sinful. The way he twists and winds around the pole would make anyone’s jaw drop, not in the least because of the considerable strength it takes to lift himself up like that. Then he flips forward from a handstand in a way that lands him with his knees parted on the floor and his ass literally bounces on his calves; and Connor has to avert his eyes for a second.

“Slowly now! Remember, the floor is either Jason Momoa or Scarlett Johansson!” it’s the direction he gives as he slides across the floor slowly, chin first, before going back the way he came and standing back up to twirl around the pole some more. “If you don’t have a full split for the [drop](https://youtu.be/2SFlZpFMTWM?t=62) you can simply go down in a stag!”

Connor all but hides his face in Celine’s neck. “Oh, sweet mother of God!” he whispers to her, and she pats his shoulder sympathetically –she _gets it_ , there’s like twelve incredibly beautiful ladies in heels doing sexy moves in alternating groups of six, more or less following the teacher. It’s both heaven and hell at the same time.

Mercy comes in the form of the universal ‘it’s over’ clapping. “Okay, ladies! It’s time!” Markus announces, getting up off the floor and sauntering over to his laptop to turn down the volume. “Off with the heels and let’s do a quick stretch!”

It takes just a couple of minutes for everyone to go barefoot. “Those of you who are staying for yoga with Simon, grab your pants. Those of you who are not, get your booties out of here!”

The room briefly turns into a cacophony of laughter and goodbyes, as most of the students filter out while others come in. In the meantime Markus is seemingly _[dismounting](https://lupitpole.com/media/wysiwyg/pro_studio_solution/LP_PRO_FLOOR_STICKER4.jpg)_ the poles from the floor with a wheeled lever.

Instinct taking over, Connor joins him as he sees the third pole coming off the ceiling. “Need a hand?”

“Yes, thank you.” Markus’ mismatched eyes all but beam at him. “I’m very glad to see you, Connor. Please, that corner is fine, yes.”

Huh. Now that he’s not distracted by the performer’s sensual moves, Connor notices a long, vertical scar running from the base of his head all the way down his neck. He can only speculate what caused it, but perhaps there’s a reason why Markus spurred him so earnestly to come take a few classes.

They make a good tandem as Markus dislodges each pole and Connor drags them to their assigned corner, and by the time the yoga teacher comes in, everything except the silks is set.

“Hello, everyone, my name is Simon.” The yoga teacher introduces himself, while Markus only greets him with a nod and a smile, carrying on with prepping the room, “I will be your aerial yoga teacher for today. How many of you are here for the first time?”

Both Connor and Celine are relieved to see a few more hands rise together with theirs.

“That’s perfect. Are there any injuries I should be made aware of?”

This time, Connor is the only one to raise his hand. “I, uh… have a busted right knee from a few years back… it’s fully functional, but it’s not as flexible as the rest of me anymore and hurts a little sometimes.”

“That’s absolutely fine; you’ll just take it easy on your right side for the stretches. The moment it starts to hurt, I want you to slowly and carefully break position and sit in a straddle, ok?”

Well, at the very least these people seem to know their stuff on health and safety.

“Is anyone in the room expecting?” Connor feels slightly dumb when the thought _‘expecting who?’_ briefly crosses his head, before catching onto what exactly their teacher was asking about.

Fully green-lighted; and with all the silk hammocks now [hanging in place](http://ts.communitynewspaperproject.org/files/2012/08/hammocks-edited-11.jpg), courtesy of Markus, Simon motions for everyone to pick one. “This is your hammock. For the next hour and a half it will be your best friend.” Simon explains, “Whenever we hold a strand of the hammock, we hold it completely in our hand, with the thumb touching your other fingers. The same applies if we happen to hold both strands in one hand. Always take care to do this, to prevent it from slipping through your fingers. Markus?”

As a demonstration, Markus takes a hold of the silk and pulls himself up and back down easily. Then he does the same with an incorrect hold… and it’s only practiced reflex that makes him land safely in a crouch.

“Case in point. Don’t try this at home, kids.” Simon comments with a wink.

Connor was afraid he’d be too distracted by the insanely attractive stranger he accidentally acquainted himself with, to exercise properly, but he finds himself already loving this.

“Is everybody ready to begin?”

Actually, he can definitely see himself getting used to this.


	2. Getting your feet off the floor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor knows he will be sore all over tomorrow, but it’s the good kind of pain –he really didn’t realize how much he missed this, working his body to its absolute best, just him, some music and the energy rolling off him in waves. He’s never felt more alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay, chapter two!
> 
> I don't have anything to say about this.  
> I just.  
> Love pole dancing.  
> So much.
> 
> Idk, take this. <3

The first part of the class was warming-up exercises and stretches for everyone, regardless of fitness level, and Connor found that, surprisingly, his right knee didn’t give him any grief, as long as he took care not to hyper-extend it during the leg stretches.

“Now, let’s get our feet in the air a bit, shall we?” Simon announces, demonstrating himself first. “Keeping the hammock in front of you, hold it down at the height of your hipbones and fold forward, until you can put both your hands on the floor in a downward dog position. When you feel comfortable, [lift your feet](https://66.media.tumblr.com/cae5ed9f20f4be053a0b129e17e3bf91/tumblr_oqmh5w8XjE1rt658vo3_1280.png).”

Beside Connor, Celine lets out a slightly nervous laughter. “What if you _don’t_ feel comfortable?”

Their yoga instructor is nothing but gentle as he comes to her side. “Is it okay to touch you to adjust your position?”

“Yeah, yeah sure, I just don’t want to fall on my face.” Celine is nonplussed by the question, but Connor is privately very impressed –not everyone would think that some people might not be ok with being touched, especially in a class where physical contact is almost unavoidable.

Simon carefully repositions the silk along Celine’s lap and steadies her hands on the floor so that they are shoulder-width apart. “Now try lifting just one foot… and then the other.” He instructs, pleased when she manages, “It doesn’t have to be a perfect scale, even just a foot off the ground is going to be enough for your first lesson…”

They go through a few more figures, and Connor notices that the room is pretty much distributed by level of skill— first timers on the left, regulars in the middle, and the really advanced ones, like Markus, on the right. Thing is, Connor is breezing through all the basic figures without even breaking a sweat, some he even finds similar to the stretches he used to do every day back when he competed… and he’s _burning_ to try some of the figures he can see from the corner of his eye.

“Connor, right?”

Simon’s call of his name nearly makes him flop forward –luckily, his dancer’s reflex are still pretty sharp, so he catches himself gracefully enough. “Yes?”

“You haven’t asked one single question. Is your knee still ok?”

“Yeah, I’m… surprisingly fine.” He answers sincerely, trying to find a good reason for not having spoken this entire time, “And, uh… I don’t know, you’re just very good at explaining.”

“How diplomatic of you.” The blond just about titters in mirth. “I’m a yoga instructor; I can see this is well below your fitness level. You have a dancing or gymnastic background?”

“I did ballet from age 6 to age 23.” He says, only now realizing how it sounds, “I still dance sometimes, though not at competitive levels.”

Simon nods in understanding and pats him on the shoulder. “Why don’t you try following along to the intermediate moves for the second half of this class?”

Connor smiles. “Can do.”

By the end of the class, he asks Simon if he could try one of the advanced figures. The invert part is easy, just upper body strength and a lot of core. Hooking the left knee around the first strand of silk is also very doable. As Simon is busing overlooking the bulk of the class, Markus gets off his own hammock and guides Connor through the process.

“Keep tugging tightly on the silk, don’t let go yet… Is it okay to touch you?” again, with that question. Connor is pretty sure that a lot of people would be more than just okay with Markus touching them, but doesn’t voice the thought, opting for a simple nod. Markus gets a steady hold at his hips to prevent falling and carries on: “Whenever you’re ready, [extend](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/cb/84/54/cb84543c1d5eeaa0128c0056c9de5053.jpg) the right leg. You can either point your toes and let the silk drape across you, or keep the foot flexed and keep the silk strand away from you.”

A dancer at heart, Connor points the toes without really thinking. He can hear Markus chuckle as he lets go. “There, beautiful. Hold it for as long as you feel comfortable.” He takes a few steps back. “To come out of it, tuck the extended leg back in towards your chest first; get one hand on the upper side of the silk, then the other, pull yourself upright and shake your legs out to disentangle. Then you can lower yourself to the ground.”

Connor is not yet ready to admit it, but he nearly cries tears of joy at the feeling of pulling this off almost seamlessly. For the very last few minutes, Simon dims the light and gives everyone a five-minute cooldown, ending it with everyone sitting cross-legged on the ground, hands to their chest in a prayer pose.

“And now thank yourselves for today, as you did some good exercise that took care of your body _and_ your soul.”

 

“That was incredible! I feel like I spent a whole day in a spa, this is awesome!” Celine is very enthusiastic as they make their way back in the changing room –people around them are all chatting happily, first timers like them are sharing their impressions, regulars are chuckling and giving pointers…

Not too far out, at the reception booth, Markus is having conversation with Luther. “Hey man. Middle shift?”

“For today, yes. The girls let me have all the Thursdays and Sundays to do my training, least I can do is taking the long Tuesday shift.” Ah, so Luther is _also_ an athlete. It explains his impressive build. “You done for the day?”

“Not yet, I have the seven o’ clock conditioning and then late night poleography level 3.”

Back to back classes, that’s quite demanding –it suddenly makes a lot more sense why he would stay for yoga as a student/assistant: it gave his body a good chance to recover and rest while still staying warm for the following sessions.

Not just a pretty face then.

“—nor? Connor!” Whoops. Celine has been trying to talk to him. She giggles quietly after snapping her fingers in front of his face. “Man, you left your eyeballs over there, didn’t you?”

“Well… I _dare_ you to blame me.” He admits, knowing there’s no use lying to either of the mastermind twins.

She doesn’t, and mimics a zipper sealing her mouth shut as they step out together –but of course they bump into Markus: the staff room can only be accessed through a door from the changing rooms.

“Hey, you two. Enjoyed your first class?”

Celine just offers a polite nod, while Connor still struggles with not letting Markus’ very peculiar eyes distract him.

“It was eye-opening to say the least.” He belatedly realizes what he just said and hurries to add: “Um, no pun intended.”

Markus, bless his heart, just laughs heartily. “Don’t worry, I’ve heard much worse.” He assures, “You did great, honestly. You should look up some of the other classes… I was covering for North today, she’s the head of Exotic, normally, but she had to cover for Aerial Hoop today while our usual teacher trains for competition, so I was bumped over to triple-F for today.”

“For what it’s worth…” Celine says, recalling their brief conversation at the bar, “You do look great in heels.”

Connor subtly elbows her in the side, but Markus just bows his head in graceful thanks.

“Ah, you know… can’t exactly toss my hair around with a buzz cut, but I work what I got.” In Connor’s humble opinion, he’s got a _whole lot_ to work. “So… what are the chances I’ll see you around in some of my workshops?”

Pretty good, actually. “What level should I sign up for?”

Celine would love to make fun of them both, right now, but holds her mouth, not wanting to ruin the moment for Connor. Markus mulls the question over, before finally shrugging.

“You could come to a conditioning class, it’s cross-level. Then I can, uh… assess your form, and we take it from there.”

Oh, but it’s _so_ tempting to comment. Celine actually bites her lips and turns away, pretending to fix her scarf. Noticing his friend about to freaking lose it, Connor clears his voice:

“I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you, Markus.”

“Thank you for coming!”

 

“ _Dude_! He was _so_ hitting on you!” Predictably, Celine doesn’t let him live one second after they’re out of the building, “Come on! _Assess your form_ , sure, is that what they call it these days?”

“Hey now, I’ll have you know that’s a real thing!” He tries to refute, but it feels weak, even to him –mostly because he _wants_ it to be flirting.

They bicker the rest of the way to the subway station, but Celine is gracious enough to let the matter rest for the time being.

Connor is still not surprised to hear from his father –Hank had immediately expressed approval and enthusiasm at the idea of him picking up dancing as a passion again, rather than just his job, but obviously he was still worried.

He smiles as he settles onto his couch to distend his legs some more. “I actually had a great time.” He assures for the third time. “I may even have made a new friend.” Connor would probably be more outraged at his father’s surprise if he wasn’t aware that he’s not the most sociable of people, and his smile only grows at the mere memory of the performer. “…His name is Markus.”

 

Having a small, tightly knit group of friends often means that there are really no secrets that survive long enough; and it’s particularly true when you’re friends with Elijah Kamski.

“For the record…” Connor muses as he watches Elijah read off his phone, “I still think you’re a creep.”

“Oh, come on, I haven’t dug up anything that wasn’t publicly available in his teacher bio.” True, and kind of impressive, considering Elijah’s usual penchant for ignoring boundaries. “Markus Manfred, 31, born and raised in Detroit, trained in gymnastics as a child, switched to break-dancing and hip-hop in his teens, eventually got charmed by aerial sports when he got a couple gigs for circus act events. Took a small sabbatical five years ago due to an injury that kept him away from the floor for eight months, came back _stronger and flexier than ever_ …” Elijah raises an eyebrow at the final part, “His bio’s words, not mine.”

Eight months is a lot. It means a broken bone or worse. Considering the dangers of aerial sports and the placement of Markus’ huge scar, Connor finally understands why the performer was so adamant about him trying something new –he must have thought it a terrible waste for anyone to just give up.

He’d be a liar if he said he hadn’t thought about throwing in the towel and just keep teaching for the kids. But damn it if flying around in high heels doesn’t look fun.

Unbidden, Elijah carries on: “No significant other listed on his social media profiles, his pretty redhead friend appears to be just that— and into chicks, apparently, so you have a chance, Celine…”

“Psh, as if a pole dance goddess would look twice at a blonde potato like me.”

“Hey! You’re a _cute_ potato!” Connor chastises, nudging her with his shoulder.

She nudges back, not having any of his sass: “Don’t you try to change the subject; we’re talking about _your_ hot pole dancer crush.”

“It’s not a crush!” he complains, “I just admire him a lot as an athlete, and he just so _happens_ to also be very attractive.”

Not trusting his words one bit, Elijah and Chloe turn to Celine.

She just sighs. “Delude yourself if you want, Connor, but you are crushing pretty hard.”

“I mean… it _did_ take him three minutes to convince you to do something we have been begging you to try for like three years.” Elijah muses.

“That’s just— he was—” Connor interrupts himself twice before he can find a decent choice of words: “He just had this… look in his eyes. Like he knows how it feels –and he probably does, according to his bio.”

It would be a very solid argument if only it wasn’t for the dreamily lost expression his face takes.

They don’t stop teasing him until the darkening evening forces them their separate ways, but Connor really wouldn’t have them any other way.

 

He books a Wednesday evening conditioning class, and he’s so excited about it his students take notice: he is smiling way too much, even when he needs to correct positions and review them from the top.

“I’ll show you the left side only, because my right knee will lock if I overstretch it.” He gets into position and takes a small breath. “Watch carefully.” He calls, voicing out each move as he does them: “Plié, step, step and— [jump](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kSwU7s2BSBs)!”

By now, he’s gotten used to the sound of tiny hands clapping, but today it makes him chuckle affectionately. “Now, it doesn’t _look_ hard, because it’s our job to make it look easy… even when our feet hurt.” Ballet shoes are the scourge of all gymnastics equipment, and Connor has yet to meet an athlete who doesn’t agree. “When you become confident enough in the saut de chat, you can chain them, doing step-step-jump, step-step-jump. Or even the glissade.”

He sits back to watch his pupils practice, pleased to see a definite improvement after he broke down the figure piece by piece. Only one little rascal has a slightly ungraceful landing.

“Alice? Are you ok?” She nods meekly and moves to reassume position, but Connor kneels beside her. “Are you sure? You usually can jump much higher than that.”

“My feet hurt a little.” She mumbles, with a shrug of her shoulder.

By now, Connor knows all of his students well, and as much as he stressed that while soreness and pain are a given with ballet, he always made sure to remind all his pupils to take care of themselves properly. Still, many of them are really passionate about dance; and while it’s good that they’re tough little troopers, he has to make sure that they learn the difference between pushing through a limit and hurting themselves.

“If it’s affecting your jump, we’ve got to have a look at it.” He throws an eye around to make sure all his boys and girls are practicing and doing fine, before he takes Alice by the hand and brings her to sit on one of the benches and grab the first aid kit. “Take off your shoes, please.”

“Did I do badly?” Gosh, but does it break his heart any time he hears a question like this.

“No, Alice, you’ve done very well. But sometimes when you practice you happen to get hurt.” He assures, and sure enough, her pristine white sock is stained red. Taking it off, he finds that on top of the usual bruising for a ballet student, the steel tip has broken the skin along the side of the big toe. Luckily it doesn’t look too bad and the toenail is intact –silver linings– but still. “I’m going to disinfect this, and then we’re going to wrap it up nice and fluffy.”

Connor makes sure to make a double round of gauze around Alice’s foot, and he's halfway through putting her shoe back on when she asks: “Can I keep practicing the saut the chat?”

She’s a fighter alright. He laughs softly. “Tell you what. You can, but you have to do the jump with the other foot, so this one can heal. Are you up for the challenge?”

The smile that finally breaks on the little girl’s face is worth it.

The rest of the class luckily goes on without incident, and as his pupils take off their shoes and do the cooldown stretches, he gets his phone out and makes the call.

“Hello, is this Mrs. Kara Williams?”

_«_ _Yes, who’s asking?_ _»_

“Good afternoon, ma’am, my name is Connor, I’m your daughter’s ballet teacher.” He explains, “I was just calling you to inform you that Alice had a little accident with her right foot… nothing too bad, but the shoe broke skin. Alice tells me she loves to dance at home a lot, so… if you could make sure she takes it easy for a bit, it would be for the best.”

_«_ _Ah, I understand. Thank you very much for telling me._ _»_

“Don’t mention it. I don’t have kids of my own, but if my daughter came home with a bleeding foot, I would want to know what happened.” From the other end of the line, Kara chuckles at his words, “Plus, I’d be a poor excuse for a teacher if I didn’t ensure my pupils’ well-being.”

 _«_ _Then we are one and the same._ _»_ the lady replies, somewhat cryptically, _«_ _I do appreciate it, really._ _»_

“Duty, ma’am.”

They exchange polite goodbyes and Connor turns his full attention back to his students, answers any questions they might have and assures that next time they’ll have a complete run through of the difference between the saut de chat and the grand jeté.

 

He puts the whole little episode behind him, until he goes back to Jericho. He’s early again –this time there’s a lady with striking blue hair to welcome him, and after he gets changed he gets the okay to go ahead and enter Studio 2.

Markus is already inside, sitting in a straddle by the mirrors as he hooks up his phone to the sound system; but he isn’t the focus of Connor’s attention, this time: right there, in front of his feet, little Alice is playing around talking a mile a minute as the performer smiles and nods at pretty much anything she says.

At one point, possibly out of boredom, Alice grabs one of Markus’ ankles and lifts his leg, using it almost as a monkey bar to walk back and forth under it. Before Connor can be silently impressed with Markus’ active flexibility, Alice takes it unconsciously up a notch and drags Markus’ foot behind her like a leash as she walks. The aerialist just lets her as he continues to prepare the music, almost as if that leg didn’t belong to him, and his body stays where it is, so he ends up doing a full box split for the sake of letting Alice play.

That’s when she happens to face Connor and breaks into an even bigger smile. “Connor!”

He’s slightly taken aback when she all but rams into him to hug his stomach, but picks her up after just a second of hesitation. “Hey you! What are you doing here, little miss?”

“My momma works here!” she declares proudly, “She’s working right now, so uncle Markus is watching me until he has to work too.”

 _Uncle_ Markus. The concept shouldn’t be so adorable, but it is. “Is he, now?”

“Hey, I’ll have you know I’m great with children.” Markus pretends to protest his slightly incredulous tone, but Connor is still distracted by the armful of future ballerina.

“And how are your feetsies, little swan? Still hurt?” She’s clearly been given a fluffier pair of socks and judging by the shapes under the right one, her bandage has already been changed once.

She shakes his head, then pauses. “Maybe a little. But momma says I’ve been good and didn’t push it!”

“Ah, so _you’re_ the super-duper good ballet teacher that knocked me down from the spot of favorite ever.” Markus’ sudden teasing remark snaps Connor’s attention towards him again. “Nice to finally meet you, _Mr. Anderson_.”

That’s why none of them connected the dots before. Connor watches Alice jump down from his hold and run back to hug Markus’ neck. “No, I still love you lots, uncle Markus! Don’t be sad!”

Heavens, this child is too sweet for her own good.

“I know baby girl, I know.” Markus assures, patting her hair, “Why don’t you go out to do the roll call for me? You can stay with Echo while I teach my class.”

She scurries off with a giggle and a kiss to Markus’ cheek, and her tiny voice can be heard, all business, as she calls from the changing rooms whoever is there for conditioning class, to _please head over to Studio 2_.

Too cute for words.

Connor hasn’t stopped smiling yet and he’s still staring at the aerialist before him.

“So… _uncle_ Markus?”

He gets a chuckle in return. “She’s not my real niece, but her mother does acro-balance in Studio 3… we’ve all pretty much adopted her.”

Suddenly it makes much more sense how Alice is one of the strongest and most flexible 8 years old he has ever seen. Growing up as the mascot of an entire aerial arts studio has its perks. It also explains why she has a tendency to ignore her own pain –she is surrounded by people who do that.

They don’t have time to chat much longer, because people start filing in, and Markus takes his place at the front-center of the space. “Hello, everybody, do we have any first-timers?” Connor and a couple others put their hands up.

It’s unsurprising to find that this class is just as mixed as the yoga one, with men and women alike in varying degrees of fitness.

“Very well. My name is Markus, and it is my job to put you through the grinder today.” Funnily enough, the once who look more advanced in level are the ones who flinch the most –right, there’s no reason to demand too much out of a beginner, but if you’re _supposed_ to already be good you’re going to have no excuses. “Are there any injuries I should be aware of?”

This time, Connor is not alone. There’s a lady who pulled out her hip a few months ago, who gets told to be careful with the box splits, and a guy recently recovered from a dislocated wrist, who receives advice against heavy loads of weight and pull-ups. North, the redheaded dancer who performed with him, is also there, and she asks: “Do _spiritual_ injuries count?”

“No, but I can give you a hug for those.” Clearly, Markus knows most of these people, first timers excluded, and he turns to Connor: “What should I look out for?”

Right. He hasn’t discussed his injury in much detail with anyone who wasn’t his physician or his close friends for a while, so Connor forgets that people sometimes will need to know. This is definitely a need-to-know case. “I’m alright with forward and lateral stretch, provided I don’t overextend. It’s the twisting and carrying too much weight that’s painful.”

“Got it.” The aerialist nods, before turning his back to them to face the mirror. “Let’s begin with a quick warm up, shall we?”

A ‘quick’ warm up for Markus is, apparently, roughly 25 minutes. Connor had almost forgotten how heavy workouts need a more thorough preparation. After squats, crunches, and several back and arm stretches, Markus claps his hands twice over the low-volume music.

“Ok now, last floor exercise before we get to the poles. Everybody find a partner, possibly around the same height as you!”

Connor makes a quick headcount and realizes— there’s 11 people here. “Um…”

“Connor, would you mind being my assistant for this?”

Regardless of the fact that it’s logical that Markus would partner up with him, considering the odd number of students and the fact that they’re almost exactly the same height, Connor still feels his chest do a small somersault. “S-sure! What do I do?”

“We’re going to do double plank push-ups.” A series of playful groans accompanies Markus’ words, to which he turns his head and clarifies: “And I don’t wanna hear any _whining_ , or I’m adding stuff after this.”

The class immediately silences.

Seems like Markus is a bit of a drill sergeant. Connor would be a liar if he said it wasn’t intriguing. He gets on the floor in a plank position and Connor gets an up close view of Markus’ perfectly sculpted behind –he’s honestly a little jealous: he was born with a rather flat backside and no amount of squats will ever make his hips into something they’re just not meant to be.

“Now you do a plank over me. Hands on my ankles, feet over my shoulders.” The aerialist’s instructions snap him back to attention and he executes. “On my mark, we do one push up each, until we’ve both counted to ten. Ready?”

Holy shit this will be a challenge. Connor feels excitement bubble up in him. “[Ready](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2jBTokobURY)!”

Markus starts, and they alternate doing one push up each as the aerialist counts loudly.

They’re both a bit short of breath afterwards. “Fun, huh?”

“Yeah.” Connor breathlessly realizes that yes, it is fun. In a slightly masochistic, _‘this is the good kind of burn’_ sort of way. God, he’s missed this.

Markus claps his hands again. “Alright guys stop staring and get to planking! Ten plank push-ups, then switch and ten more!”

The pairs get to work, and the teacher turns to him: “Ready to be on the bottom?”

Connor knows all too well that Markus means ‘to be the bottom part of the exercise’, but it’s on a silver platter. “I’d expect you to take me out for a drink, first, at the very least.”

Before he can regret his boldness, the other actually snorts at that, sending him a wink that should be illegal. “Nah. We’re pole dancers, we’re indecent like that. Come on.”

During the second set of double plank push-ups, Connor notices that Markus is leaning most of his upper weight away from his right leg, to avoid upsetting his knee –considering how hard the exercise is already, he appreciates it a _lot._

“Very well!” he aerialist praises, once everyone has completed the sets, before he takes off his shirt. “ _Now_ we can begin.”

The absolutely wolfish grin on his face tells Connor that many people have the same kind of _‘wait, what?!’_ reaction to that. But he guesses it’s only natural –conditioning workouts are made to push your limits. He was used to the hyper-stretch one, and the ones to enhance the jumps… he honestly can’t wait to see what this one will focus on.

 

Apparently, _everything._ First order of business is [pull-ups](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V1wrg22509w). “First-timers, I want you to aim for 10, but even if you stop at 5 I’m still going to be very proud of you. Levels 3 to 5, let’s try to push it to 15…” Markus gives direction with the practiced ease of someone completely in their element, then turns to his redhead friend: “North, give me 20 and finish before all of them so you can help me spot.”

Not expecting that, she exclaims something that may or may not be a curse in her home language and all but leaps on the pole to start. Connor is momentarily mesmerized by her strength and grace, but turns to his own pole and looks up. It doesn’t look too hard.

But it is. Despite him being in no way out of shape, and with a decently trained upper body strength –as a male dancer, you have to catch and toss ballerinas around a lot– clearly, that’s not the same as lifting the entirety of _his own_ weight. He manages 10, and feels the burn, but the desire to impress is strong, so he manages three more.

“Everybody done? Perfect. Take a breather, drink some water if you need it, and then do two more sets.”

Connor shakes his head in a disbelieving little laugh. “Oh gosh, it’s like dance school all over again.”

“You have no idea.” Markus tells him in passing, making a sweep through the whole class to make sure everyone has the correct position and they’re not hurting themselves.

As he waits for his students to finish their sets, he goes to bother North for some partner exercising: instead of pulling up from the floor, she will use his back as a launch to do pull-ups at a higher altitude, while he does push-ups on the floor underneath her feet. Their combined goal is to make it so North’s feet are always touching Markus’ back but never discharging her weight on him. For added difficulty, Markus has only one hand on the floor, while the other grasps the pole.

“You’re showing off.” She accuses without missing a beat.

“Save your breath for the pull-ups…” he huffs playfully, “Or I’m making you spend the next thirty minutes in iron-X.”

“You’re just proving I’m right…” Her sing-song teasing is met with silence, so North decides to let it go… for now. She’s recognized the newest addition to their Studio, and while she does find it incredibly humorous that Markus would show off for the pretty new guy, she kinda _gets_ it. Connor is really pretty.

“Alright everyone, second part of the circuit. [Reverse-grip tucks](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B_q6NyKbKcI)!” Those who already know what they are already groaning, and Markus comes to the first timers’ side to show the correct position. “When I say reverse grip, what I mean is closest arm to the pole catching the outside of your elbow and the hand in a cup-grip, while the other arm goes well above your head. From this position, I want you to tuck your knees up and to the side.” He demonstrates the move, lifting and turning his legs as slow as molasses.

As an athlete himself, Connor knows that it’s much harder to do it slow than it is to rush through it. And Markus is even talking while he does it: “This serves to work your core, in particular the obliques if you do the full turn. If it feels too hard, just tuck up vertically.”

The aerialist cycles through all the people who need to learn the hand position, and as such passes by Connor again. “No, _cup-_ grip, it means your thumb is by the rest of your fingers. You’ll break it if you try to pull up like that.”

“I can’t lift my feet.” Connor lets out a frustrated laugh while Markus circles him to figure out what’s wrong.

“Is it okay to touch you—”

 _“Yes_ , Markus, from now on please assume it’s always ok to touch me, just correct my position so I can do this.”

Amused by Connor’s eagerness to just get on with the exercise, Markus goes behind him and drapes his arms over the other’s. “Lower the inside arm, you need the shoulder engaged to the pole. A lot of weight will go there. And the outside arm is not just there, you’re pulling up with this. Now lock it up and… lift!”

It suddenly is a lot easier –still demanding and tiring, but doable. It’s incredible how a few centimeters of misplacement make such a big difference… it really is like dance school all over again. Except his teacher now is not a grumpy old lady, It’s a heterochromatic hottie with freckles on his chest.

_‘Damn it Connor, less fantasizing, more exercising!’_

Markus makes them all do three sets per side, each of four repetitions for the beginners, eight for the intermediates, and ten for the advanced. Having a well-developed core for all his jumps and active flexibility, Connor manages to even keep up with North for this one.

He feels disproportionately proud.

“Very good…” Markus sounds genuinely impressed, before calling the next exercise: [horizontal pull-ups](https://youtu.be/B_q6NyKbKcI?t=45).

He starts them all in a side plank, with one hand on the floor and the other at the pole. The goal is to use the hand gripping the pole to pull themselves towards it and then push back.

“Alright, for this one we’re going to do only one set per side, but I want twenty reps, from everyone!” Seeing the look of fear briefly flashing through some of the first timers’ faces, he softens his expression and adds: “If you feel like you absolutely would not be able to do that, just keep the plank for as long as it takes for the others to complete each side. Ready?”

Connor knows he will be sore all over tomorrow, but it’s the good kind of pain –he really didn’t realize how much he missed this, working his body to its absolute best, just him, some music and the energy rolling off him in waves. He’s never felt more alive.

By the time the class ends, everyone is sweaty, tired and sore; but people are high-fiving and thanking Markus on the way out, while North moves to the sound system and start fiddling with it, likely to take over for the next class.

“Bye, thank you for coming today!” Markus repeats to the ninth or so person thanking him for the class, while also exiting the room.

Steeling himself, Connor takes the chance and falls into step with him.

“Markus? Can I talk to you for a second?”

Bright mismatched eyes focus on him as the other nods. “Sure.”

“I just… wanted to thank you.” Connor says sincerely, “It’s true, I never really stopped dancing for myself, but… I had grown negligent. I thought that after my injury I wouldn’t be able to be the absolute best, and that if I wasn’t that, there was no point in trying at all… seeing the kind of work you guys do has changed my mind.”

Markus’ face lights up in a big, heartfelt smile, even as a hand instinctively goes up to scratch self-consciously at his scar. “I’m happy to hear that.” He says, voice almost too low to be heard as they just stand in the corridor looking at each other. Blinking himself out of his own silence, Markus then clears his voice. “Oh, before I forget! Your assessment.”

To be completely honest, Connor himself had completely forgotten. “What’s the verdict?”

“In terms of strength and flexibility, you’re easily a level 3, level 4 if we push it…” that’s very flattering, coming from a professional, “But I’d advise you to take at least two level 2 classes, just to learn all the grips and feet positions without being overwhelmed.”

Connor is inclined to agree… he had no idea what a reverse-grip was until he saw it, and he’s willing to bet there’s more where that came from.

“Other than specific technique, tough…” the mischievous grin returns to the aerialist’s lips. “I have to say I’m quite impressed. If you _really_ want to have some fun, take some silk or hoop classes as well, every now and then. We have each twice a week so if you can make time, it’s an absolute riot.”

They keep joking with each other as Connor gathers his things, until Markus has to head to his next class and he has to go out.

Only after saying goodbye Connor realizes that their conversation has been so easy and natural that he wasn’t even intimidated by Markus’ looks or his state of undress anymore.

Just like that, he slowly becomes a regular at the Jericho Dance and Fitness Academy.

 

He’s having lunch with his father when Hank says it:

“You look different.”

“Different, how?” he asks. They’ve met to grab a burger out during Hank’s lunch-break and after Connor’s morning classes, before he has to go to Jericho for his level 2 poleography class.

His father grins at him. “Happier.” Of course. He’s a police Lieutenant, after all.

Connor shrugs. “I didn’t realize how much I missed doing this. And I’ve met some really good people.” He has accompanied Celine to two more aerial yoga classes, and concluded that Simon is possibly the kindest living being on Earth. North, while being as explosive as her fiery red hair, is also a very patient and thorough teacher –both for pole and silks. Then there’s Josh, head teacher for the hoop classes. He’s only taken one of those so far, but he’s never laughed so much while working out in his life.

He didn’t even feel awkward upon meeting Kara in passing –he hasn’t taken any acro-balance classes so far, but he’s seen glimpses of it and she is every bit as impressive as little Alice recounted with sparkling eyes.

In front of him, Hank studies his expression before nodding to himself. “You know, I’m really proud of you.”

Connor is a grown ass man, but it still makes his chest warm to be praised so openly. “Really?”

“Really.” His father confirms, “Hell, kiddo, many people who went through the same as you ended up never touching a dance floor ever again. I haven’t been the most knowledgeable about this shit, but I’ve seen enough to understand… you’re strong, Connor. Getting back into it like that, it’s good for you.”

The smile on his face is so big it almost hurts his cheeks. “Thanks, dad.”

Hank chuckles as he takes a bite out of his burger. “Yeah, well—” he stops for a moment to swallow down the mouthful, “Hurry up and send me all those instagram videos you guys make, so I can brag at the station about my son the acrobat.”

“Will do.” Connor assures, laughing. “Markus is teaching me pole-assisted backflips, today.”

“Y’all make this shit sound like goddamn Street Fighter moves. I love it.”

Not for the first time, Connor counts himself lucky to have a father like Hank. He overheard a lot of the younger girls at pole class saying how they had to lie to their parents about pole dancing, because they’d think it inappropriate and only in terms of stripping –he never had this problem with his own father. Even back when he was little, when it was ‘strange’ for a boy to so openly like ballet, Hank has never discriminated against his passion and never told him it was wrong to do it; instead, he asked him if he really loved it so much, and did everything he could to support his son’s dream.

Now, years later and facing a new and exciting challenge, Hank doesn’t fail to make it known that he’s in Connor’s corner, whatever happens.

 

…Damn, Chloe and Elijah are going to be so smug about being right _again_.


	3. Bruises and Bumps Along the Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It takes less than a month for Connor to become a regular presence in the Jericho Dance and Fitness Academy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two days, Two chapters!!!!
> 
> I still got it.  
> (I'm cheating though, because it's the weekend and I have fuck all to do, lmao)
> 
> Either way, here!!!  
> Ooh, the plot is starting to kick off.  
> What magical adventures await our airborne-heroes?
> 
> Idek what the fuck I'm saying.  
> Pls love me. <3

It takes less than a month for Connor to become a regular presence in the level 3 pole classes and even some level 4 poleography, when he feels up to the challenge.

They unofficially welcomed him in the crew back when he came along to cheer Josh on for his aerial hoop contest –he placed second, but the man who beat him had worked with Cirque du Soleil in the past so they were all pretty proud of him and went out for drinks together to celebrate.

 Markus explained to him that the ‘original’ crew, comprised of Kara, North, Josh and Simon, used to meet up in this old decommissioned freighter by the docks to dance and have fun without being bothered— a few years later, he happened to walk along and in need for dance partners for a competition.

They’ve all been inseparable since, and when eventually Kara founded the dance academy, they all followed her. Luther came a little after that, though he quickly became Kara’s acro-balance partner, and more. Grip-aid and arnica cream take up permanent residence in his gym bag, and he walks home with at least two new purple splotches on his legs or arms more often than not, but it feels good.

It feels like he belongs –he can talk to these people, really lose himself in whole tangents about the intricacies of even a single move, and none of them think it’s weird. More than that, they understand him. They understand his pain, even if they haven’t heard the whole story— they understand it because they share it.

Markus most of them all.

“Alice wasn’t even three years old yet when I had my accident.” Markus tells him one evening, as they stretch together after class –Connor has taken the habit of staying behind on late nights, just to have the chance to chat with whoever’s there and maybe even help around a bit… but up until now, Markus never mentioned his own accident directly, and Connor didn’t ask, wanting to respect his boundaries. He feels his breath leave him in a small gasp when the aerialist turns to allow him to examine the scar up close.

“I fell from a poorly bolted in pole.” He says, the very slight tremble in his voice making it apparent that, while he’s well over it, it’s still a bad memory. “I broke my neck during the dress rehearsal –Josh took my place, and we still got second place.”

“Markus…” Connor can barely swallow his own breath –he’s been griping to himself for a sore knee, and this guy right in front of him broke his _neck_ and bounced right back?!

“It was a miracle that they saved me. I spent eleven hours in surgery, completely out.” Markus carries on, dragging his hand along his scar, almost as a gesture of comfort. “When I woke up, the doctors told me I could still walk, but that my mobility wouldn’t be the same, and that I lost 50% of the use of my left arm.” He turns again, to face Connor this time. “Clearly, I said _‘fuck that, I’m left-handed, for God’s sake!’_ and started doing as much therapy as my body could stand.”

Looking at him now, Connor is even more awed by Markus’ sheer strength. Not just his physical prowess, but the strength of his spirit as well. “Well… wow.”

The aerialist shrugs, letting out a flattered and slightly self-conscious chuckle. “It took me three months to be able to move normally, six to be able to dance again and eight to recover the hyperflexibility.”

“That is… beyond impressive, Markus… many people would not have recovered at all…” without thinking, Connor grabs the other by both wrists to hammer down the concept: “You’re my freaking hero!”

“A hero who gets shoulder pains if he dances for more than three hours a day and needs 15 minute-long stretches to even start.”

“Still! You’re an incredible individual, Markus. I wish I was _half_ as much of a warrior as you are.”

Markus gently breaks free of Connor’s hold and puts an affectionate hand on his shoulder. “Connor… you’re more than that.” He says, firm conviction in his eyes. “You’re _so much more_ than that.”

A beat of silence passes between them, until the warmth radiating from Markus’ hand to his shoulder makes Connor remember that they’re alone in a dance room in what amounts to underwear. He clears his voice. “L-let me help you close up.”

His voice breaks Markus from the reverie he had apparently fallen in, and the two grab their clothes and set to work.

“So… did they find who was at fault for the defective pole?” Connor asks, if only to feel the quiet and let his mouth think of something that isn’t kissing Markus right now, however tempting that is.

The aerialist shakes his head. “The owner of the theater kept claiming they were set up to code, and since we were the only ones who know how it actually _should_ have been set up, it was our words against theirs.” He explains with a huff, “Insurance paid the medical expenses and Perkins got away with just a fine for negligence, but at least my case set a precedent and now there’s always a third party from the IPF verifying the performance conditions.”

Connor has heard that name before. Richard Perkins owns more than one theater across the states, including the one he performed in when he was seventeen and still competing. He only has a vague memory of the man, but it struck him as anything _but_ a patron of the arts –the business was an inherited one, and Perkins only seemed to care for the profit it draws in.

“That still sucks.”

“Well, what can you do? I make it my personal goal to compete and get to the finals in as many competitions that take place in his theaters as possible, just to be a thorn in his side.” Markus reveals with a wink. “North and I are actually planning a duet for the next Pole Sports Championship… guess who hosts it.”

“Oh, you magnificent bastard, I love that!”

“You should see the full choreo we’re doing. It’s gonna blow everyone’s mind.”

Markus can’t quite pinpoint when Connor became more than just the _‘new guy who just so happens to be disarmingly beautiful’_ and stepped fully into _‘closely held dear’_ territory. He’s actually been flirting less with him: at first, he wouldn’t have minded to try and court him a bit, maybe have some consensual fun, but now… he kinda wants more. Connor is a bright, strong-willed individual, with a razor-sharp humor and enough passion for dancing to rival his own.

He deserves much more than just a passing fling. Thing is, despite the sensual and overconfident pole persona, Markus is actually kind of shy; and as such he has no idea on where to even begin asking Connor out –especially considering he’s Connor’s pole teacher and he’s not sure whether that would be inappropriate or not.

Oh, well. For now, he’s gonna take what he can get— Connor offers him a great companionship, he understands the daily pains and bruises and they can talk about _anything_.

Hell, they’ve even poled together a few times, when Markus would make him his impromptu assistant for duet classes; and they almost have as good a chemistry as he’s got with North.

With a little work it could maybe even surpass that.

He gets an idea.

“Hey, speaking of… why don’t you come watch our rehearsal next week? I’ve already got a booking for the space; we’ve got almost the entire routine down!”

Connor used to get a little jealous whenever he saw North and Markus dancing together, but knowing what he knows now… it might be time to play a little matchmaker himself. “Can I bring a friend?”

“As many friends as you want.”

 

The mastermind sisters obviously jump at the chance of making _more_ fun of him— he knows they will, even if they promise to behave.

“So… you’re a full-fledged aerialist, now?” Chloe asks, huddled in her jacket as they walk towards the theater.

Connor shrugs. “I don’t know if I could call myself that…”

“Sure you do!” Celine objects, tugging him along faster since she can already see someone waiting for them, “You train at the second-highest level, don’t you?”

“I only take a _few_ level 4 classes—”

The Jericho Dance and Fitness Academy operates on five levels of difficulty: Beginner, Elementary, Intermediate, Advanced and Elite. Markus has jokingly called Connor an ‘Inter-vanced’: strong and flexible enough to be Advanced, but only missing some of the technique needed.

Connor still has to answer him about his offer for a few one-on-one classes to fill in what’s missing and fully move him to level four. He would love to get the extra knowledge, but he doesn’t trust himself not to get distracted yet.

“Hey, you made it!” North’s voice reaches them before they can continue bickering –she’s at the theater’s staff entrance and waving at them to hurry up and come on in.

Celine instantly becomes meek and quiet like a baby cat.

“Come on, we’ve already done the warm-ups and are going to test out the jumps!” she all but drags them through rooms and corridors, directing them to the staff changing room and assuring them it’s fine to leave their stuff there. “Markus is looking forward to showing off some more, so I hope you guys are prepared.”

“ _Jelena!!!_ ” his indignant yell carries through outstandingly clear from the backstage area, “Are we going to practice or not?”

“Oops, busting out the middle name… he’s nervous alright.” She winks at them and all but pirouettes on herself to go –before turning again: “Oh, by the way, I’m North. Which one of you is the one with the snobby apple-reject boyfriend, and which one is the one in Simon’s yoga class?”

The twins laugh heartily because, bless Elijah, it’s kind of true. “That would be me. I’m Chloe.”

“And I’m Celine instead.”

North looks between the two of them long and hard. “Okay, can one of you change her hair or something? So I can remember which one of you is okay to flirt with?”

Chloe laughs some more, as does Connor –Celine less so, but she clears her voice slightly and takes her lipstick out of her bag. Moving to face a mirror, she draws a small flower on her own cheek.

“How about this?”

Holy shit. North didn’t think she’d actually be interested. This changes things. It brings a warm smile to her face. “Perfect. I have to go now, before the drill sergeant gets _more_ mad. Come out whenever, we’re just practicing!”

The performer leaves as fast as she came bounding in, and the three linger in the changing room a few seconds more. Connor is the first to speak.

“That was adorable.”

“Shut up!” Celine protests, “You have no room to talk!”

“I’ll say! If only _someone else_ was as straightforward as North is.” Chloe comments, chuckling behind her hand.

Connor shakes his head at the twins’ antics, but it’s not like Chloe is wrong. Markus jokes and flirts, but nothing in their relationship, however friendly and ‘hands on’, has made Connor think there’s actual interest to go beyond that, so far. “Let’s just go offer our undying support.”

The choreography itself is shaping to be absolutely impressive, jumps and flips calculated to the millimeter and the millisecond –though there are still a few rough places to sort out, Connor notices as he and the twins watch from the first row.

“I don’t know, Markus, it’s not comfortable to get into the Reiko from here.” North could move further up the pole, with a bit of effort, but it puts a lot of weight on Markus’ left shoulder and she’d rather not do that, for obvious reasons.

Markus lets her get off and breaks position himself, sitting down cross-legged. “Still, we only have to the count of four to switch position…”

Both are lost in thought for a moment, trying to think up an alternative; and that’s when Connor’s dancer instinct wins over his awkwardness: “Then why don’t you just kick out?”

Markus and North look at each other. “Kick out, how?” she asks, beckoning him closer.

Connor steps onto the stage –it’s ridiculous, there’s no one here except for his friends and the lights are not even on, but it still feels like a piece of him that was missing— and takes off his shoes. “Okay so you are both suspended at this point, right?” he asks, gesturing to Markus. “If you could…”

Markus exchanges another look with North and smiles to himself, resuming his horizontal handstand by the pole. Connor approaches the pole himself as he speaks: “If you only have a count of four, instead of standing on his shoulder, you could suspend yourself on his hip— may I?”

“Go for it.”

With Markus’ permission, Connor heaves himself up in an almost mirror position to the aerialist’s one, shaping his legs into a split.

“And from here, you kick the back leg forward— two, three, four, done.” By the end of his movement, his on the opposite side of the pole and Markus has all the space he needs to flip up.

Chloe and Celine let out a small applause and approving whistles.

North is similarly impressed. “You’ve memorized the choreo well enough to be able make changes?”

“I teach ballet for a living. It’s a habit.” Connor shrugs, just the tiniest bit self-conscious, “I didn’t mean to overstep, I’ve just seen you guys practice bits and pieces of this enough times in the last month—”

“Don’t apologize!” the redhead hurries to assure, “It’s actually pretty awesome. _And_ it’s great to have an expert eye looking at the tempo. Isn’t it, Markus?”

Still slightly out of breath from having kept the difficult position longer than necessary, Markus nods, moving to sit side by side with him. “Yeah, actually. You’re really one of a kind, Connor.”

“Thanks, I guess…”

“You know, I do mean it as a compliment.”

Markus has been keeping it more friendly between them lately; and yet there are moments like this, every now and then… they just stand there, awkwardly looking at each other like idiots. Plenty of their conversations end in shared silence, particularly when their skirt around the topic of their respective injuries— but God, Connor could never tire of staring at Markus’ eyes. The dichotomy of blue and green makes him look almost otherworldly.

It would be so easy to lean forward and close that distance… if only he was that bold. “I should… get off the stage and let you guys practice.”

Markus sits back with a tiny intake of breath. “Um. Sure… thanks again.”

Chloe and Celine are looking at him very eloquently when he comes back to his seat.

“Not a word.” He hisses, which only serves to make the twins giggle more.

Rehearsal goes actually quite well, and they all have lunch out together halfway through the day –Connor had nearly forgotten how fun it is to freak people out: when they see petite, lean and graceful dancer, they wouldn’t expect them to be big eaters, so North and Markus get stunned looks from people around them, what with their more than generous bbq chicken wraps with at least three sides each.

Connor actually gets one for himself, to ‘keep them company’.

“Holy crap, Connor, they have an even bigger appetite than yours!” Chloe comments, watching in fascination as they dig in with gusto.

He just chuckles and chances a look in Markus’ direction –the aerialist is laughing behind his hand, too.

“Tell you what; this still needs something to be perfect…” North declares, “I want fizzy drinks. Why don’t you boys go over to the bar and see what they have on tap?”

With an inkling to where this is going, Markus sends her a half-hearted glare. “What are we, your butlers?”

“And you call yourself a gentleman?!” she jabs with a knowing smile, “Come on, the longer you protest the longer it will take! Pretty please?”

Connor bumps him in the shoulder. “Let’s just go check the bar out.”

“See? _Connor_ knows how to treat a lady.”

Markus is already out of his seat but they have done this song and dance before. “If you were a lady I’d treat you like one.”

“Say that to my face, блять!”

“What did she say?” Connor is sure she heard the same word a couple times during practice.

“Ah, she just called me a bitch. Let’s go see if we can placate her with strawberry lemonade.”

North watches them head towards the bar with an angelic smile on her face, waiting all of three seconds before turning to the twins.

“Ok, girls, real talk. Is Connor single?”

Chloe and Celine exchange a look.

“Yes..?” Celine says tentatively, almost like a question, before she realizes why North wants to know:

“Is he into guys?”

Chloe breaks down in laughter. “His first crush was [Rudolf Nureyev](http://www.campadidanza.it/wp-content/uploads/2018/01/Nureyev.jpg), you tell me.”

North holds back a snort –very few people wouldn’t have at least a bit of a crush on the historical ballet dancer. Still. “That means Markus has a chance with him, right?”

Celine nods, almost exasperated. “A pretty good one. He was crushing from day one, but from what I’ve heard, he’s grown to like him a lot as a person in general. If only that boy would _talk_!”

Her sister, being the original mastermind, chooses that moment to turn flags: “Yes, how hard could it be to just turn to the person you like and tell them _hey, I’d love to get a little closer to you, would you like to go out sometime_?”

“Beats me.” North agrees readily, before sliding slightly closer to Celine in their booth. “Speaking of… _how_ exactly are you still single?”

Celine glares at her sister for all she’s worth, but Chloe makes a show of innocently turning away and whistling a little tune. “Well… people often confuse Chloe and me, so a lot of the time… they just think I’m straight.”

“Oh, that’s the worst. You have no idea how many people assume Markus and I are a thing, just because we dance together…” North complains good-naturedly, “Don’t get me wrong, he’s a great guy… but he’s a guy. You feel me?”

Fighting down a blush at the thought North might be interested in her; Celine is saved from having to answer by the boys returning with the promised fizzy drinks.

“There you go, you tyrant. Strawberry lemonade.” Markus pointedly places the glass in front of her, and she sticks her tongue out at him.

“Excuse you, I’m a _benevolent_ Queen.” Markus doesn’t seem to believe her, but then again he has no idea of the silent alliance that has just been formed. “Also, you’re a cockblock.”

He shakes his head at her. “Well, next time you want to put the moves on the pretty blonde, you can just tell me to beat it.”

Knowing his friend’s interest in the redhead pole dancer, Connor joins in the teasing and they spend the rest of their lunch trading good-natured jabs at each other.

 

The second half of the day takes a turn for the unpleasant when they bump into Richard Perkins in the flesh, on their way out of the theater.

He stops right in front of their way out. “What do we have here? Little miss showgirl and Magic Mike, again?”

Connor actually has to blink himself out of his stupor— he’s even more of an asshole up close than he remembered.

“Mr. Perkins.” North greets, with a smile so fake it might as well not be her face at all. “And it was such good day so far. How unfortunate.”

“Look at you, always playing hard to get. You stripper types will never cease to amaze me.” For someone so short, he sure looks down on people a lot. “You know, the Pole Sports event is in one of my venues as well. I could get a good word in with the judges.”

She actually snorts at that. “Bold of you to assume we’d even need it. Move aside, or I’ll _move you_.”

“Far from me to pass up the chance of looking at you from behind.”

North was already fuming having to deal with this asshole’s words, but it’s the smack on her ass that does it. She drops her bag, spins around faster than any of them could predict, and punches Perkins square across the face. “Touch me again and I’ll rip your arms out, you _pervert!_ ”

“North!” Markus instantly goes to put himself between her and Perkins, ready to throw hands if need be.

“You bitch!” the older man groans, getting up and holding his bloody nose, “You’re _finished_ , you hear me?! You’re banned from my theaters, you’ll never perform anywhere in this city again!”

He tries to point a finger in her direction, but Markus covers her entirely, facing the man with such furious eyes that Connor is almost worried he’ll have to call Hank to come break it up. “ _She's_ finished?! When the truth comes out—”

Perkins doesn’t let Markus speak, grabbing the collar of his t-shirt: “Choose your next words _very_ carefully, young man. _She_ will be banned from all my venues regardless. You wouldn’t want me to decide that _none_ of your freak friends are allowed to ever set foot here again, would you?”

North’s eyes widen at the thought. Shit. That’s right. The booking for rehearsal was in Markus’ name, and they hadn’t yet filled in all the duet details for the competition. “Markus…” she whispers, “He’s not worth it.”

Markus turns to look at her briefly, torn between defending her honor and laying low for the Studio’s sake. He crosses eyes with Connor as well, and the ballet dancer nods at him briefly, fiery determination in his eyes as well.

He takes a deep breath, and swats Perkins’ hand away from his chest. “You will see me at the Pole Sport Championship.” He assures, voice low and firm, “Which my partner and I will _win_. Then, you will see me _everywhere_. There won’t be _one_ aerial event that won’t _beg_ for the privilege of having someone from the Jericho Dance Academy attend and that. Is. A promise.”

As full of himself as a man like Perkins is, he just scoffs disdainfully at Markus. “Dream on.” He hisses, trying and failing to shoulder-check the pole dancer.

Being much bigger and stronger, Markus doesn’t move one centimeter and Perkins just kind of shuffles awkwardly around him, ignoring the laughter coming from the girls in the group.

“You know, nosebleeds could be really bad at you age! I’d get that checked out if I were you!” North calls after him, even though she receives no response.

How can a man pushing sixty be so juvenile is beyond her. She feels her breath leave her in a huff, two seconds before she is surrounded by her friends.

“Are you okay?” Markus asks, taking her hand and examining it to see if she damaged her fingers with that punch.

“Do you want to press charges?” Connor offers instead, “My father is in the force and we’re all witnesses, that man was molesting you…”

“And, from the looks of it, it wasn’t the first time!” Celine adds with a shudder, “Ugh, what a pig.”

“Guys! One at a time.” North has to raise her voice slightly, but it has the desired effect: “Yes, Markus, I’m fine, it was like punching a straw scarecrow; no, Connor, I’m not going to press charges because that asshole will get Markus disqualified too if we try— it sucks, I know, but it’s too important of an event to let this get even shittier. There will be _plenty_ more occasions to land that scumbag in jail.”

“Shit.” Markus curses out and shakes his head, before hugging his friend and partner tight. “Josh is too heavy for me to lift, Kara doesn’t do pole, Rupert and Danielle will both be busy covering the classes…”

Right there and then, the mastermind strikes again: “What about Connor? He’s got the choreography almost memorized already, right?”

“I…” as both Markus and North turn to look at him, Connor feels every bit like a deer in headlights. “It’s, uh… it’s a professionals only competition, Chloe…”

“So?” Celine interjects, “You _are_ a professional. You teach dance for a living, don’t you?”

Connor falls silent. It’s a technicality, but it works. Markus seems as stunned as he is, but North is already breaking into a smile.

“Yes. Yes!! This is _amazing_ we can make that prick _eat_ his words!!!” she exclaims, unfolding from the hug Markus had her in to turn to Connor and grab him by both shoulders, “Look, I know you’ve been insecure about your pole skills since day one, but as an Elite teacher, I tell you: you _got this_. You have the strength, the agility and the finesse. Markus can help you with the technique, you still have four months to prepare.”

“I wouldn’t want to ruin your chances…”

“Connor.” Markus’ call is not what makes him fall silent: it’s his eyes, pleading, intense and earnest. Not for the first time, he’s rooted to the spot by those eyes, “We have danced together before. I think we have a good chemistry, we can make it work.”

The twins have fallen silent and are holding their breath, while North tightens her hold on Connor. “Please… four months is not a lot to find a replacement unless it’s someone who already knows the dance routine.”

Connor is conflicted –on one hand, if he refuses he’s basically killing Markus’ chances for the Championship unless he opts out of the duet category and into the singles, which still won’t guarantee him enough time to come up with a new routine… on the other hand, embarking on this challenge will not only mean keeping his attraction for Markus in check, but also shaking the dust off a lot of old demons from his past.

_“You’re more than that. You’re so much more than that.”_

His mind chooses that exact moment to hit him with Markus’ words from a few nights ago. Connor thinks of the long afternoons spent sweating and dancing their hearts out, of all the new ideas he’s been able to implement in his ballet class to help his students, of how Alice would clap excitedly for them when she saw Markus and him practice a combo together.

Screw this. He’s tired of the undecided and socially awkward mess he had become –he was practically born on stage. It’s time he reminds himself of what he’s capable of.

“…Okay.” He says, feebly at first, before clearing his voice and searching Markus’ eyes with his own. “Okay, I’ll do it. When do we start?”

 

 “It sucks for that girl, though.” Hank comments when his son recounts the tale, “She sounds cool.”

“Yeah, she is, actually.” Connor agrees, shuffling through a few of the Studio website’s videos to show him, “This is them at the event where I met them.”

Hank observes carefully, not knowing much about the sport itself but impressed nonetheless. “And this Markus guy… he the one you’ve got a crush on?”

“Dad!!!”

I’m just saying…” his fighter raises his hands in a pacifying motion, “If you two have to work that close, it might be a good time to pursue this. Take some of that _actual_ passion to the stage.”

That would be nothing short of a dream— every dancer imagines themselves with a lover they could go on stage together with… but there’s a reason why Markus and North were such a successful duo: no romantic entanglements to complicate things.

When he mentions that to his father, though, Hank just shakes his head at him. “Bullshit.”

“What?”

“Bullshit.” Hank repeats, going to grab another drink from his son’s fridge and plopping back down onto the couch, “Friendship can be as intense as a romantic relationship, and twice as messy. I’ve seen shit go tits up when there were _zero_ lovers involved.”

Connor mulls it over. His father is not wrong. He still wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if his own feelings somehow ruined this. “It’s still a risk…”

“Life is risk, kiddo. You and I know that more than most.” Throwing his free arm around his son’s shoulders, Hank tugs him in for a half hug. “You just get to decide which risks are worth it and which aren’t.”

Of all the times he could get so logical and wise. Damn it.

“I’ll… think about it.” He says, already starting to feel better as he returns the hug. “Thanks, dad.”

“Don’t mention it, kiddo. And send me a save the date, I wanna come video the whole thing.”

And that’s how Connor finds himself enrolled in a dance Championship, for the first time in five years.

Elijah, being Elijah, offers to dig dirt of Perkins to ‘get him out of their lives once and for all’— Markus and North appreciate the offer, but Connor asks him to hold off on that: he’s known Elijah ever since they were kids; and some very strange coincidences happened around him… especially after he learned about someone who had wronged Connor one way or another. The ballet dancer is not entirely sure those coincidences were entirely legal.

His friends are weird.

Still, having a competition on the horizon feels like an adventure, and even as his workload doubles –he still has to teach his classes and attend his own, on top of rehearsal– he finally feels like his life is his own again.

He feels excited about the future, and excited about getting to dance with Markus: he is, after all, the one person who made Connor so enthusiastic about his own life again.

 _Watch out, world…_ he thinks to himself, _Connor is back._

 


	4. Wanting More

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Training goes on, Connor and Markus get acquainted with each other's bodies.
> 
> Feelings are not too far behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took way longer than it should've, considering the length.
> 
> But I just had an idea and it's gonna be fucking glorious. I guess this chapter officially puts this story in a medium-burn category, since chapter 5 is shaping up to be first kiss territory; and my usual is at least 8 chapters *side-eyes Odd-Eyed and Walls*.
> 
> Either way, I hope y'all are still enjoying this, and I hope I'm not too boring with all the pole and choreo stuff. (I'm trying to avoid technicalities as much as I can and there's a link inside the text for the video reference I've taken inspiration from, it can be followed almost to the letter, minus the end)  
> I just really fucking love it.
> 
> But oh, how exciting, everything is slowly coming into place!!! Right???  
> pls love me ♥ ♥ ♥

Working out a full choreography with Connor is both delightful and torture.

By now, Markus has accepted that he is indeed very much attracted to the ballet teacher that recently joined their ranks and that it’s not going away anytime soon. It might actually even be a case of capital-L ‘Love’, here.

He just feels so much happier whenever Connor’s around. They can talk about anything, and he doesn’t have to hide the occasional pangs of pain in his shoulder— Connor understands pain all too well, it would be an insult to his intelligent to pretend he was fine all the time.

The fact that those deep brown doe-eyes drive Markus crazy and those absurdly soft-looking curls seem _made_ to be pulled is just a bonus in all this. Thing is, it makes it so hard to concentrate on the routine.

They already agreed that Connor will take North’s place in the choreography, because Markus’ parts would strain his knee way too much, while some of North’s part would require a degree of shoulder flexibility that Markus cannot really reach comfortably.

But the _costume_ , dear God. North’s was originally a torn mini-skirt over the short-shorts, with a bra covered by crisscrossing straps on her chest… Markus would rather they matched, but he wears trousers for his own and Connor will need his thighs free for the routine… the tailor they commissioned managed to do a great job with what she had: she adapted the shorts to a male’s form and made them just slightly longer, removed the bra but left in the latex straps surrounding his chest.

Connor seems satisfied with the result. “Well, that’s about as good as it’s gonna get.”

They’ve taken the re-fitting as a chance to rehearse with the costumes and see if the fabric holds, and…

“Wow.”

Markus doesn’t even register what he just said out loud until North elbows him slightly with a giggle.

“You might wanna pick your jaw off the floor.”

“Um. Right.” Markus clears his voice somewhat awkwardly, before looking back up at Connor with a smile. “Well, it looks great on you. Shall we?”

 

Markus goes to cover his mouth with the costume’s black facemask and Connor nearly feels his knees balk. What is it with covering up one’s face that makes it a thousand times more enticing?

They’ve been working in a good tandem so far, most of the routine is down and just needs to be polished and timed properly, but there is one particular moment that they’re having difficulty with: from the top of the pole, Markus will have to take a swing, leap out in a backflip and land on all fours _over_ Connor’s body.

Connor does trust Markus not to hurt him ideally, but so far hasn’t been able to help rolling out of the way at the last second.

After the fourth try of the day, the aerialist attempts a shrug.

“I mean… we could find a way to make it work like that, if you want…”

“No.” Connor assures, “The landing is what makes the whole jump worth it, it’s eye-catching and extraordinary because it’s calculated to the quarter of an inch. I _will_ do it. Just… give me a second.”

Truth is… Connor isn’t sure he’ll be able to remember it’s a choreography and _not_ jump Markus right then and there. Having the other basically straddle his lap from a 12 foot drop is apparently a huge turn-on.

Who would’ve known?

As he sits on the wooden floor to catch his breath, Connor sees Markus approach him, kneeling by his side.

“Is there anything I can do to make this better?”

The ballet teacher hesitates. “It’s nothing _you_ do, really…” he assures, taking a deep breath and releasing it as a slow, silent sigh, “I just… I’m having a hard time keeping my body in check.”

No pun intended, he doesn’t say.

He sees North cover her mouth to hide a giggle, but Markus just gives him an understanding smile:

“I know what you mean…” Connor really doubts it, but the pole dancer goes on, “Pole choreos can be a bit… overwhelming, and you become overly conscious of your body and its reactions.”

It’s… not the exact reason why Connor can’t seem to keep himself under control at the prospect of having the aerialist literally jump on his lap, but it comes close enough— it’s probably partially true.

His hesitance seems to make Markus reach a decision, and he dusts himself off.

“Okay, here’s what we’re going to do: we’re going to have a break from the routine and change songs.” He briefly walks to the corner of the room where his duffel is and takes his phone out, setting it against the wall opposite to them to record. “We’re going to do an exercise that North usually suggests to all the people who are too self-conscious to let themselves go.”

“Okay..?” Connor barely has time to wonder what that will entail before Markus takes off his fabric facemask, and gestures for him to please come closer.

“I will need to blindfold you.”

 _What?!_ “What?”

That sounds like it would bring forth _opposite_ results to the self-control Connor was hoping for. When Markus just holds out the fabric with an encouraging expression, he tries voicing his confusion better:

“ _Why_ do you need to blindfold me?”

“Because we will improvise a routine together, and being blindfolded you will have no choice but to constantly be touching me to know where you are in comparison to me and the poles.” Markus explains, moving to walk the both of them until they’re standing between the two poles. “That will make you less embarrassed about tumbling around with me, and it will get us more familiar with each other’s body in general, which is definitely a plus if we’re to perform a high-trust routine.”

The logic of it is undeniable. Connor ties the makeshift blindfold around his face with a small sigh. His vision is not completely blocked, but he can barely make out basic shapes so he will indeed have to rely on touch a lot do improvise a dance.

“I’m trusting you a lot with this.” He says, letting Markus tug him to the floor until they both are kneeling.

“And I’ll prove to you that you can.” The aerialist all but whispers to him, pressing lightly against his shoulder to tilt him sideways. “Lie down.”

North [starts](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9zaECuQgiJs) the music for them, and already Connor feels overwhelmed by the way Markus is cradling his body with his own. He feels Markus’ lips brush against his shoulder and in his hair as he slowly retreats from that position, until only his hands are touching Connor’s arm and leg. When the tug comes, Connor follows it without hesitation, allowing Markus to turn him so he’s lying on his back; and he feels the aerialist move at his side, throwing one leg above him in a wide arc, before lowering himself on his lap in a painstakingly slow motion.

The rhythm is set, and Connor follows it, letting his limbs move fluidly, as if he was a liquid; he stretches his arms above his head and arches his back, feeling Markus turn slightly above him, maybe reaching towards him but turning back at the last moment.

Going in time with the music, he feels Markus about to move back slightly and reaches out to help the movement along. Connor’s hands end up right under Markus’ glutes, but neither of them cares as they complete the movement: Markus brings Connor’s legs up with him by the ankles, before allowing him to let them fall back down as he runs his hands up Markus’ chest. Then Connor pulls the other towards himself and Markus arches back over his head, so much so that Connor could kiss his shoulder-blades if he wanted to.

They stay like that for a little while longer, as Markus brings his head back up and Connor follows his body with his fingertips. For all the doubts he had, Connor has to admit: Markus was right. Now that he can’t see the people watching them, Markus, and not even himself in the mirror, it’s so much easier to just _feel_ the music and flow with it, keeping the slow and steady beat with the body against his own.

He feels Markus’ legs rise up and away from him, and does a backwards tumble to slide behind him. The momentary separation is almost jarring, but soon enough Markus tumbles back as well and hesitates for a beat on all fours, meaning that Connor can slide under his legs face-down and let the aerialist straddle his back this time. They both follow through their respective movements until they’re both lying on the floor almost mirroring each other, Markus’ foot touching Connor’s as a reassuring presence and guiding movement. Connor manages to ‘copy’ Markus’ movements from what little he can make out past the blindfold so they both turn until they’re face-down in opposite direction, then Connor arches himself back, waiting for whatever Markus will wish to do with him— he doesn’t wait too long at all, Markus repositions himself so they’re kneeling in front of each other and one of his knees is between Connor’s.

They drape over each other’s left side, then the right; then in a spur of boldness Connor tilts Markus back and the pole dancer lets him, arching just about all the way before coming back up almost brusquely and they lock in a chest to chest hug. Connor can nearly feel Markus’ lips inches from his, but he pushes the other’s face away from him to the side and down to the floor.

It’s intoxicating how willingly Markus goes.

Connor sneaks over Markus’ body and nestles himself between his legs, draped over the aerialist’s back, so he can pull Markus back towards himself until he’s kneeling and Markus is practically sitting on his lap again.

They sway together for a moment, and Markus keeps his hands over Connor’s, firmly plastered against his own chest. The ballet teacher follows Markus’ body when he feels it surge forwards again, his chin mere millimeters over the other’s spine until he can rest his head against Markus’ shoulder as the aerialist arches his back up. Coming down slowly, Connor listens for the next movement and feels Markus turn on his side, so he turns as well to give him space while still ending up behind him.

Markus almost lies down on him, and Connor gets to brush a hand down his cheek and neck, before Markus ‘escapes’ the hold and makes him follow. Connor describes an arc with one leg over Markus’ body, then one more with the other and his hand finally finds the static pole at the end of the turn.

Connor stays lying down at the base of the pole as he feels Markus stand up and step around it, then tumbles to the other side so he can be kneeling in front of Markus as the aerialist arches down –Connor reaches up to run one hand down his chest, then Markus follows his movement and _he_ arches back as well before they line up with the pole again and have to separate.

Markus lifts himself in a shoulder mount and Connor dives under him, moving his body in a pirouette on the floor until he ends up right where he started, waiting for Markus to descend towards him from his upside down position. Connor crawls back as Markus crawls forward, they switch places and it’s the most they’ve gone without touching so far— four, maybe five seconds, and it feels like _agony_.

They both turn their heads towards each other, Markus was almost at the spinning pole but he comes back for Connor, twirling into him right as he stands up and even hooking a leg around the ballet teacher’s waist. But the song is not waiting for them, so Connor turns away in two pirouettes until he’s touching the pole Markus has abandoned, while the other lifts himself up on the static pole for one spin, before stopping to lean against it.

Connor cannot bear to be so far apart, so he marches himself towards Markus and uses him as a support to climb the static pole. Markus pushes his leg to the side and kneels to the ground, making Connor descend gently in a spiral spin until his shin softly land on Markus’ back.

This is an exercise of trust, so Connor lets go of the pole and rests his curled up form fully on Markus.

He takes the chance to return the favor and brush the tiniest of kisses against Markus’ shoulder before extending his legs behind him and relieving the other of his weight. Markus decides it’s a good time to sit up, so Connor hugs his chest and follows the motion arching up, Markus’ hands still cradling his own, almost jealously. Connor can almost nuzzle the other’s neck from that position.

They part reluctantly, one of Connor’s hands tracing a line down Markus’ back before he turns for the pole while the aerialist tumbles away to the other one.

Connor isn’t too sure of what figures Markus is making on the spinning pole, but he keeps it simple to avoid moves that he can’t afford _not_ to see. One step around, a few pirouettes, of which one mid-air, and a shoulder-mount later, he hooks his knee to the pole and turns so he can briefly face the direction Markus is in before pulling himself up and leaning back in an arch— at his side, he could vaguely make out the shape of Markus doing a side-spin of some sort and then going upside-down again.

He comes down from the pole, spins around it once, pirouettes one last time under his arm and suddenly there they are, face to face again.

Markus walks purposefully towards him, and rests his hands on the blindfold, keeping them there, at the side of Connor’s head, while the last few notes ring out, punctuated by their heavy breaths.

They are standing very close.

If Connor wasn’t blindfolded he’d probably be staring at Markus’ lips right now. Or his eyes. Either of the two, really.

“See?” Markus says, gently removing the blindfold, “You can keep your body in check without a problem.”

The small round of applause that comes from the direction of the pole shows not only North, but also Josh and a few of the other hoop students who were just leaving the class that just ended.

North in particular is in absolute awe: “Guys… are you _sure_ that was improvised?”

“Believe me; I would love to take the credit for whatever it turned out to be…” Connor says, scratching the back of his head almost sheepishly, “But I was just following Markus.”

Markus turns to look back at him and wink. “And I was just playing hard to get.”

“Well.” North walks back to the sound system and changes songs. “I think you’re ready to try the jump.”

They’ve already trusted each other with complete and total improvisation, and Connor himself was blindfolded for it, so… North is probably right. This should be piece of cake: he just needs to do his flip, land in the right spot, and trust Markus.

“Alright… let’s take it from the top.” Markus nods at him as he gives back the facemask, and they get back to starting position.

Connor actually had his doubts about a blindfolded exercise alone improving their whole routine and chemistry, but already everything feels so much more seamless: he’s accidentally touched Markus’ ass a few times during their improvisation, and no one exploded, no one teased him about it and Markus himself didn’t mind— it now seems so silly to worry so much about where his hands might end up in the face of keeping everything perfectly flowing and making sure the twelve-foot drop doesn’t kill either of them. Now that he _isn’t_ worrying about accidental inappropriate touches and how they could ‘expose’ him, he moves more confidently and seamlessly, his movements are not a split-second late any more, and at the 1:48 minute mark he is assuming his position on the ground and ready for the flip.

Markus lands over him in one clean motion, feet either side of his hips and hands either side of his head, carrying with him the ghost of his jump’s momentum. It makes Connor jolt in a muted gasp that doesn’t quite leave his lips, and they both freeze in position.

A second passes, then another, and then they should keep moving and continue the choreography but neither of them does –they just stay there, both heaving, gazes lost in each other’s.

“Woo!!!” North’s yell and applause break them from their reverie. “Nicely done, gentlemen! Now you just have to practice it enough times that it doesn’t make you choke like a pair of meerkats in headlights.”

Right. They have a bit of leeway to recover and roll into the next move, but it’s not _that much_ leeway.

Markus reacts first, backing off Connor’s body and to his feet with a slightly awkward chuckle. “She’s right.” He says, holding out a hand for the other to take, “Same time tomorrow?”

“Same time tomorrow.” Connor confirms, and for the first time he doesn’t feel like he’ll burst into flames if Markus so much as looks at him. Instead, the warmth of his hand feels nice. Comfortable even. Like they’re on the same page. “Next after this we have to think of the Reiko at the spinning pole.”

Markus’ smile widens. “I have a few ideas that might work.”

It’s not until Connor is out and inside the changing room that North comes up to Markus’s side and slings an arm around him.

“Dude… you are _gone_ on that boy.”

Chuckling to himself, Markus turns to her. “Yeah. Yeah, I kinda am.” It actually feels pretty goddamn refreshing to admit it-the closer they got, the stronger Markus’ feelings have grown, and what they shared just now is just physical proof of how much he’d just love to get even closer.

“Great!” North exclaims, seemingly proud of him finally admitting it, “You should tell him!”

He looks down and shakes his head –he knew she’d say that. “I can’t, North.”

“What? Why not?”

Markus teeters a second between staying silent and speaking up, but eventually he caves: “I’m already asking a lot out of him by having him compete by my side. How selfish do I have to be to think it’d be ok to push my feelings onto him, too?”

“Damn it, Markus, we’ve talked about this—” she mentioned many times that Connor seems to be perfectly fine with his attentions, welcoming them even, but that hasn’t been enough for Markus to make a move so far.

“North, I’m a _pole dancer_. You know how this works.” His voice lowers to the point of a dejected murmur. “Anyone with a pulse would enjoy the flirting. Plus a few dead souls who haven’t got any in a while. I want more than that.”

Surprisingly, she doesn’t make fun of him for that. Instead, North turns him by the shoulder and hugs him tight. “Sweetheart…” she calls softly, “I know how you feel. Believe me, I do. But Connor has no way of knowing the truth unless you _talk to him_. For all you know he might be thinking that _you’re_ the one who doesn’t want more, and holding back himself.”

The reasoning takes a few moments to click in Markus’ mind.

Shit. North may be right. “I didn’t think about that.”

“Of course you didn’t. You’re a disaster.”

“Hey!!”

Her face softens even as she lets him break the hug in indignation. “But you’re _my_ disaster. And I’ll be damned if I’m not the best goddamn wing-woman you could ever wish for.”

“Damn, you’re making me feel like I should return the favor.”

“Don’t you _dare_ —”

North sudden agitation is both adorable and slightly insulting. “Oh ye of little faith. You don’t trust me to help you out with Connor’s blonde friend?”

“I have things under control…”

It’s Markus’ turn to cross his arms and send her the patented ‘bitch please’ look. “Last time Celine was here for a yoga class you talked her ear off about silk fabrics and avoided touching her as if she was made of glass.”

The way her cheeks puff in protest makes her seem far younger than she is. “I just don’t wanna come on to strong!”

“I’m pretty sure that exactly what _she_ wants.” Markus counters, struggling to hold in a chuckle.

“Women are more complicated than that!”

Markus is not disputing that, but… “She nearly fell off her hammock trying to follow your ass out of the room with her eyes.”

“Okay, _fine!!!_ ” she finally exclaims, holding out her pinky. “I’ll make you a deal: I ask out Celine and you grow some stones and talk to Connor. Sounds good?”

Realistically, they’re both grown ass adults and shouldn’t need to form this kind of pact just to muster up the courage of talking to the people they like, but moral support is always an incentive. Markus holds out his hand too and hooks his pinky with North’s.

“Deal.”

“Good.” She says, face brightening in a smile so wide it kind of has Markus thinking this was her plan the whole time and he just got played. “Now go hit the showers, you reek of _pining_.”

 

Connor hasn’t seen Elijah in a while, what with all the rehearsal taking up his time and his friend being quite busy with his own work, but it’s good to catch up.

Especially if they go out for breakfast on his day off, in that one place that makes white chocolate and fudge cakes and Elijah is buying.

“How’s the choreography coming along?” he asks, such a perfect picture of innocence on his face that it creeps Connor the hell out.

“A few bumps here and there, but we’re smoothing them out as we go.” Connor answers, not bothering to hide a small smile at the mere thought of dancing with Markus. “We’ll be ready for performance day.”

“Good. I will be too.” Elijah says somewhat cryptically. “It’s incredible what people think they can get away with.”

Now, Connor is the first person that would love to give assholes like Richard Perkins a piece of his mind, but he also worries about getting Markus in trouble and would prefer to avoid it. “Elijah, for the love of all that’s good, please tell me you’re not doing anything illegal.”

Elijah just smiles and, looking at him straight in the face, parrots: “I am not doing anything illegal.”

It doesn’t make Connor feel any better.

By his side, Chloe chuckles. “He’s not doing anything that can be proved, for what it’s worth.”

“Goddamn it, guys…” he just shakes his head and sighs –he’ll have to trust the mastermind sisters not to get them all into trouble. “Fine, I don’t wanna know. I’m almost due to rehearsal anyway.”

They all start getting up to exchange goodbye, when Connor remembers Markus’ text and turns back to his friends.

“Before I forget: Celine, you’re coming to Simon’s class tomorrow, right?”

She blinks at the non-sequitur, but nods. “…Yes?”

“Can you stay behind and come help us? North will be our pole-cleaner and spotter for the dangerous tricks, and we need another pair of hands to man the sound-system.”

“Uh… okay, sure!”

They actually don’t, anyone in the studio could come help, but Markus mentioned to him how much North talks about Celine, and Connor honestly also wishes they’d just get over themselves and recognize their obvious feelings for each other.

He can barely get the thought through his mind without feeling like a huge hypocrite, but he’s trying to build up the guts to speak to Markus. Eventually.

Still, he feels pretty damn proud of himself after she says yes, making plans for the next day before they part ways.

Connor is just trying to decide whether it would be worse to be in doubt until performance day or to have it all out in the open, considering the worst case scenario is that Markus doesn’t return his feelings.

Though he’s starting to think he maybe should just take the plunge— a championship is already a very stressful thing, it will be good for both of them to be in as clear a state of mind as possible.

If the worse he has to worry about is whether Markus wants a relationship or not, then he either is already way too confident in their performance or needs to get his priorities in order.

Whichever the case, it’s not like he’s got anywhere to run or hide.

He’s been living and breathing _Markus_ for weeks now. His heart hasn’t shown the slightest sign of getting used to it or just growing out of the pull tugging at him constantly to get closer and closer to the aerialist, so it’s most likely that his feelings are here to stay.

_» yo this is getting real, the judge lineup has been announced!_

Speak of the devil. Connor smiles at the text— he can just imagine the excitement in Markus’ eyes, despite him being someone who regularly competes at events like this and has been for years.

“What would I be doing now, without you?” he mumbles to himself, thinking of long afternoons home, dancing to himself in a space not nearly wide enough to properly stretch his legs -the way he spends his afternoons _now_ feels so much better. He’s still smiling as he sends his reply.

_» Great! Do any of them actually know how to dance?_

Pole dance is a particular case, but in a lot of performative arts competitions Connor has seen a panel of judges that weren’t really that competent in the craft they were judging— it’s always been more convenient to be a critic rather than an artist, after all.

Markus’ reply is instant:

_» damn, shots fired! Most of them yeah, there’s a couple names I don’t know but it’s a pretty competent lineup all around. Are you excited yet?_

Excited doesn’t even begin to cover it.

_» I’ll be thinking of nothing else until I manage to get to the studio and start training. How’s that for ‘excited’?_

The aerialist’s reply actually makes him stop in his tracks to read it over and over, just to make sure he’s not seeing things:

_» good. I like it when you’re thinking about me._

Connor takes a deep breath and diffuses with a joke, for now. If only Markus knew how much little things like that actually affect him… he doesn’t want it to stop, but he’s just been so scared of only seeing what he wanted to see that it kept him from doing anything about it.

This stops now.

He will find an opportune moment and tell Markus _exactly_ how he feels. He trusts Markus with everything else— with watching over his favorite pupil once Alice is out of school; with holding him up during combined poses, with jumping on him from a 12 foot drop without hurting him.

They’ve held onto each other more times than he can count now, Connor would be able to recognize Markus by a touch of the hand alone.

He’s pretty sure he can trust Markus with his heart, as well.

With that in mind, he speeds up and gets ready to have the best goddamn rehearsal there ever could be.


	5. Getting Real

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh, Markus. I am proud of you for finally getting your shit together… But my God, you’re gonna be so whipped.”
> 
> “Worth it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YAY THIS IS STILL ALIVE!
> 
> Plot Twists all around!!!
> 
> Not really.  
> But yeah.
> 
> Next chapter will probably be a little more background on what exactly Elijah is cooking up, it's very likely we will also have more Hank and then there'll be the competition, too.  
> Which means we might get to meet Carl.  
> It's probably gonna be a long one.
> 
> In the meantime I hope you all enjoy!!! ♥
> 
> (Good God it's exhausting having three fics on at a time, why do I do this to myself)  
> (pls love me)

 

Connor was very excited to hear all about the competition and see what Markus is so enthusiastic about.

He is less so when the pole dancer actually shows him the judges’ lineup.

 

_Oona Kivela – specialization: gymnastics_

_Steven Retchless – specialization: pole fitness_

_Anastasia Sokolova – specialization: Exotic pole dance_

_Saulo Sarmiento – specialization: acrobatics_

_Amanda Stern – specialization: classic choreography_

 

He feels his stomach drop— something must be showing on his face, because Markus takes the tablet from his hands before he can drop it, and then supports Connor by the arm with his free hand, guiding him to sit down on the studio’s floor, against the full length mirror.

“Hey. Connor, you ok?”

Connor is most definitely not ok. He’s having all kinds of flashbacks –from the maddeningly hard workshops back in his teenage years, to winning competition after competition just in the hopes to get noticed; and then, when he finally was, it only resulted in more and harsher expectations put on him.

“Yeah, I just…” he tries to smile for Markus, to show he’s somewhat alright, but it doesn’t really come through –his face is kind of frozen in a mildly scared grimace.

You never really get over your first, truly nightmarish ballet teacher. God, he feels so stupid.

“Connor… you know you can tell me anything.” Markus is starting to genuinely worry about him, so Connor clears his voice and mans the hell up:

“Amanda was— she used to be my teacher before I had my accident.” He explains in stilted words –he’d never went into depth about it, he always felt it didn’t hold a candle to Markus’ near death experience, but if there ever was a moment to let it all out, it’s this one. “It was a stupid car accident, it was nobody’s fault, but my knee got stuck crushed in a metal wreck for about half an hour and came out mangled. I was devastated, but when the doctor said that, give or take a year or two, I could make a full recovery, if a bit bumpy, I was overjoyed.” He takes a deep breath. “Amanda did not share that joy.”

Markus is starting to get it, but he still refuses to believe a teacher would be so heartless, so he asks: “Was she worried that you wouldn’t recover?”

The look Connor gives him says it all –he appreciates what Markus is trying to do, but neither of them is that naïve. He shakes his head minutely.

“She was mad that it would take so long. She almost blamed me for getting hurt at all. _‘How unfortunate’_ she said, _‘Such a debilitating injury, right at the age where you should be working the hardest’_ … I apologized for letting it happen, as if it was in any way my fault, and promised I would train extra-hard when I came back, and what she told me was…” He is a grown ass man, damn it, he’s not going to cry over this. “What she said was _‘I’m afraid there won’t be much to come back to, Connor. Professional ballet doesn’t wait for sabbaticals, and it definitely doesn’t slow down for an injured dancer on the mend’._ It still gives me the chill how cold she was to me after I gave her years of undivided devotion. Insult to injury, she left me with the worst thing you could say to someone who just had their world ripped from under them: _‘Don’t have any regrets. You chose to spend the winter home, didn’t you?’_ This bitch was blaming me for the accident that destroyed my leg because I refused to spend Christmas away from my single father.”

Connor had his gaze fixed onto the ground as he told his tale, but when he looks up, Markus is furious.

And with reason. His own accident was terrible, but he had a supportive network of friends and family to get him back on his feet and go back to dancing as soon as possible. What Connor went through was physically less risky and likely less painful, but this one pompous hag made it psychologically debilitating on him. She probably single-handedly ended Connor’s career in ballet. It’s a wonder he kept dancing at all.

“You are… so much stronger than you give yourself credit for.” Markus whispers, reaching out a hand to cradle the nape of Connor’s head, “I’ve already told you, but I feel like you need to hear it again.”

Connor shrinks in his shoulders. “If I was strong, I wouldn’t have given up that easily.”

It’s a good thing the studio is booked for rehearsal for the next three hours and people know not to come in. Markus doesn’t think Connor would be comfortable sharing this moment with too many people.

“Is that so?” He hums, the beginnings of a smile forming on his lips, “Tell me, Connor… why do you teach ballet to kids?”

The answer is instant: “Because children who love to dance deserve to be taught in a healthy environment that doesn’t place bullshit expectations on them.”

He turns to look at Markus in the eye as he says it, and the expression he is met with leaves no room for doubt –that’s exactly what Markus expected him to say.

“See? Your reaction to that witch pulling that shit on you was to try and make it so that no one else would ever have to go through it.” The pole dancer points out, bringing up his other hand as well, so that now he’s cradling Connor’s head with both. “You are so, so very strong.”

“Says the guy who almost literally came back from the dead.” Connor remarks, biting his lower lip.

There, he’s smiling again. Markus chuckles.

“Well, they did tell me that my heart stopped for 20 seconds during surgery, so…”

“Oh my _God_ , Markus!!!” Connor erupts in an outraged laughter, shrugging out of the hold to punch the other in his good shoulder.

They sit there a little while longer, laughing and making dark jokes about their respective injuries, until Markus drops a hand on Connor’s shoulder and tugs him close.

“Hey.” He calls, “This doesn’t change anything. Your old teacher is there, so what? We’re still going to win. You’re amazing, you’re gonna _do_ amazing, and she will _eat her words_.”

“Markus… thank you.” Hank was right since the beginning –he should have cultivated more contact with his peers. Only another dancer can really understand how you feel. And his father is also right about Markus: Connor would be an idiot not to give this a chance.

Ever since they met, Markus has been nothing but a positive force in his life— he encouraged Connor to try something new without pressuring him, he showed Connor that pain doesn’t define you, and that you don’t have to be a perfectly fine-tuned machine to succeed. You can be imperfect, you can have scars and wear them proudly, you can deviate from society’s rigorous standards and little compressed boxes; because _that_ is what makes you special, beautiful… alive.

Markus has been there for the whole time, with dorky jokes and kind smiles, bright mismatched eyes shining through chronic pain, fatigue and stress, never once complaining about himself, always supportive.

Beautiful like only an oddity can ever be.

This has gone on long enough.

“You said I can tell you anything… right?” he asks, while he gathers his courage and tries to figure out his next words. Markus leans towards him, a slight worry marring his features again.

“Of course! Anything.”

Connor takes a deep breath. “Okay, then. This choreography has been driving me insane. I love it, and I think it’s amazing, but being so close to you without _actually_ being able to reach out and touch was nothing short of torture.”

“..what?”

“What I’m trying to say is… I want you, Markus.” Connor barely even registers the pole dancer’s surprise, because of how badly he needs to let it all out. “I want you like I’ve never wanted anyone before. You’re an extraordinary individual, and I… just… never felt this way before.”

Markus is speechless. He’s been fretting over whether or not his attentions for Connor were unwanted or made him uncomfortable, and now he finds out Connor has been uncomfortable for the exact opposite reason. His mouth opens and closes a few times without him saying anything, but when he finally does recover the ability to talk, this is what comes out:

“North was right, I’m a fucking idiot.”

It’s Connor’s turn to be confused. “Do I want to know?”

“Probably not.” Markus shakes his head, leaning in the rest of the way, “Can I just kiss you? There’s so much lost time to make up for.”

Their lips meet like they had been waiting to do so from day one; and if Connor had any doubts they fly away when Markus closes his eyes and surges forward, trapping Connor between himself and the studio’s mirror.

Markus is more than happy to open his mouth for Connor and he runs his tongue along the pole dancer’s lower lip to memorize his taste. He can _feel_ Markus tilting his head for deeper access and pressing forward against his body, one hand snaking around his waist and the other splaying flat on the mirror.

Holy crap, they’ve been missing out.

“I’ve wanted to do this ever since I first saw you…” Markus whispers against his lips, breaking the kiss just so he could look at Connor some more, as if he didn’t believe this could actually happen.

Honestly, Connor thinks that should be _his_ line.

Instead, he grins against Markus’ mouth. “Does this make us… _partners_?” he asks, the play on words so blatant it would be obvious even to Alice.

Markus just kisses him again, then moving to his jawline and finally nuzzling his neck.

“I think we both know we’re more than that.”

Connor releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding –Markus wants the same thing he does. It’s not just about casual flirtation and it’s never been about that. They want the same thing, and they were finally adult enough to go for it.

This time, when Markus tugs him close at the waist, Connor follows, and he ends up straddling the pole dancer’s lap.

Oh. Well, damn.

Clearly, the pole shorts must be equipped with a dance belt to hide _that_ every time Markus performs. The thought alone makes him erupt in low giggles, but it brings Markus back into the here and now:

“Oh shit… look at us, making out like teenagers in the dance studio.”

It kind of makes Connor freeze as well— aside from not being exactly a private place, there are health and safety protocols to follow, not to mention sanitary regulations to abide by.

It’s unfair, but… they probably should stop fooling around and get to rehearsal.

He disentangles himself from his embrace with Markus and lets the other stand up.

“To be continued, I hope?”

“Dinner at my place, after rehearsal tomorrow?” it’s adorable how they were just now sucking each other’s face and Markus still asks like there’s a chance Connor would say no.

The afternoon turns out to be the best three hours of training they’ve had in a while.

 

“You look happy.”

Connor should have known Celine would be onto him in a heartbeat. He hasn’t seen Chloe or Elijah yet; and other than sending a barely coherent text to his father along the lines of _‘you were right, I love you, dad’_ , he hasn’t really talked about kissing Markus to anyone… but the mastermind sisters earned their name for a reason.

He grins at her. “I _am_ happy.” He confirms, holding her gaze long enough for Celine to figure him out.

Three, two, one, gasp.

“You _didn’t_!”

“I did.”

“And it went well!”

“Obviously.”

Celine jumps in place and hugs him. “Connor I’m so proud of you!!!” she exclaims, trying to keep walking while holding onto him, which is… not ideal, but they manage a few meters before having to pull away and actually walk like decent people. “Look at you… my baby, all grown up and kissing boys!”

When they get to the Studio, Connor just knows that the others will _know_ about them. North, at the very least. Simon also seems to somehow always know things. Probably Kara as well.

What he didn’t expect, come rehearsal time after the conditioning class, is for North to just… clap him on one shoulder in a slightly solemn way.

“Thank you. I always knew you were the one with more balls.”

“For God’s sake, North, will you give it a rest?!” Markus doesn’t even sound _that_ angry at being teased.

“What? I’m just happy for you; I haven’t seen you this excited since Pride—”

“ _Jelena_ , I swear to God…”

Connor wonders how he could have ever believed those two were in a relationship, when the way Markus busts out the middle name _screams_ ‘embarrassed older brother’. Mercifully, North just drops it with a laugh; and soon after she’s already shedding layers to be in her crop-top and shorts.

Celine stares.

Connor knows, Markus notices neither of them put her on the spot too much, opting instead to help North get the crash mats out.

“Okay so… the choreo song is track number 12, and 1 to 11 are for warm up.” Connor explains to his friend once she gets her wits back enough not to stare at the beautiful redhead she still thinks she’s got zero chances with. “After we warm up, just keep 12 on loop. Pause it if you see us stop and come down, play it back when we restart. Ok?”

Celine nods. “I can do that. Yeah, sure.”

Sure, she’s not at all nervous to be in the same room with North for like three hours with nowhere to hide.

They start the warm up, and the last thing Markus whispers to him before they get into it is:

“Are you sure this will work?”

“Call it _exposure therapy_.” He whispers back with a smirk, “It worked on me.”

 

They have mastered the most complex jump by now, and North doesn’t need to spot them _that_ much after the first half hour –it takes a while for Markus to warm up his left shoulder properly to be 100% confident in the holds and Connor stumbles once or twice as his knee acts up slightly, but other than that… the crash mats are more than enough.

So… why is she here at all? Sitting down cross-legged by the mirror to stay out of the way while still checking their progress for any problem, she catches Celine’s gaze.

The blond offers a timid smile, before lowering her eyes back down to the phone with all the music tracks, and it clicks.

What a clever setup.

North wonders whether this was Markus’ idea, or Connor’s. She’d bet good money on the latter, Markus is not nearly slick enough to come up with it on his own and he never bought this whole ‘wingman’ thing anyway.

Well. Sort of. They do have a deal, and Markus upheld his end –kind of, even if Connor made the first move.

“So… Celine. Any reason why you’re not interested in pole dancing?”

The blonde seems taken aback that she’s at all being spoken to, and North can sort of relate –she is the third one of four sisters, back in Europe, and before moving away she was easily overlooked, too. Chloe and Celine are physically identical, but Chloe is more assertive and far less shy than her sister, which means Celine is more often than not happy to just stick to her shadow.

Here and now, though, Celine is the one sitting before her eyes, and North fully intends to give her the attention she deserves.

“O-oh, it’s not that I don’t like it…” she says, almost worried that it would offend North if she didn’t, “I just don’t think I could ever do it!”

“Really? I’ve seen you do alright in Simon’s yoga class.” The performer wonders, bumping her shoulder lightly.

Celine shakes her head. “That’s… different. Even if I _could_ learn the moves, and I’m not saying I’d be able to…” she shrinks into herself a bit, making her already small frame look positively tiny. “It takes a degree of confidence that I simply do not have. I’m not bold, I’m not powerful, I’m not.. that… beautiful. Not Like you.”

With those words, North realizes a few things: one, she was totally right about women being more complicated and Markus can suck it; two, Celine thinks her shyness makes her somehow unworthy of being noticed; and three, _Celine thinks she’s bold, powerful and beautiful_.

This would be perfect First Kiss territory if only it wasn’t for those two idiots making eyes at each other on the pole!

“You’re giving me too much credit, and yourself too little.” She says, once she finds her voice enough to be able to speak and look at the blonde before her at the same time. “Very few people are born with that kind of confidence, if at all. Back when I started, I hated my body and the way people would look at it. It made me feel dirty, like it wasn’t even my own, because of the disgusting stares of people who thought they were entitled to _stare_ and _comment_ and make _their_ behavior _my_ fault.”

Things have become much more bearable nowadays, but a few years back just the word ‘dancer’ was enough to be synonym with ‘slut’ in some places, let alone ‘pole dancer’ or, heaven forbid, _‘exotic_ dancer’. North has been called more names than her vocabulary can keep up, English and Ukrainian alike.

She tells Celine as much.

And then she tells Celine how much she loved to dance regardless; how her friends loved it too, and how for those four or five minutes at a time nothing else would matter. It would be just her, the pole, the music and her passion.

Eventually, she discovered what a great instrument that passion is to stake her claim on her own body. To feel full ownership of it and be proud of what she is and what she can accomplish.

Finally, she can _feel_ the strength coursing through her, running up and down the pole and into her like a lightning bolt. She can keep her head high and tell people ‘look if you wish, have however many dirty thoughts you want… I’ll still be a goddess spinning around in the air, and you’ll still be down on the ground’.

North doesn’t know how long she talks for, probably too much, and when she finally cuts herself off she expected to have bored Celine half to death…

Instead, the blonde is looking at her with pure admiration in her eyes.

“And you _dare_ say you’re not actually that powerful?” She asks, “Any more than that and you’d be freaking Wonder Woman!”

Despite herself, North’s first thought is: “Hey, there’s a choreo idea!”

She then realizes she completely ruined the moment by blurting that out instead of telling Celine how she feels, but they’re both already laughing at her one-track mind.

Markus and Connor seem to be doing just fine without her, so after a cursory glance at them North focuses her attention back on Celine.

“You know, I do appreciate it. Your support, I mean.” She says, daring to lean in just enough to brush a stray golden lock from Celine’s face back behind her ear, “And I think you’re wrong. You may not be as bold as I am, but you have your own kind of power… and you’re _definitely_ beautiful.”

Celine lowers her gaze, but North can see a smile behind the self-conscious lip-bite.

“Well, thank you.”

Now that Markus and Connor are not tiptoeing around each other like baby ducklings, the choreography is going definitely well –they even take a break to discuss getting fully ready for performance day, Connor talks a little about Amanda… he doesn’t say much, but North agrees that the old hag is definitely a bitch and that winning the Pole Championship is the biggest ‘fuck you’ Connor can throw at her.

At one point, Markus break off from the group and calls North aside while they clean the poles together.

“I know I’ve already asked a lot out of you, but I need you to stay behind and help Luther close.”

The pleading tone and the subtle urgency already make her want to cackle in glee. Instead, she studiously schools her expression into one of seriousness.

“This better be what I think it is or it’s not worth it.”

“Oh it’s so much more than that.” Markus assures, already knowing where her thoughts went, “North you have no idea— he’s just— I mean we… fuck, I think I’m in love.”

Markus is a six feet tall, grown ass, muscular lump of pole-dancer, and yet this is still adorable.

She is lowkey proud. “Well it’s not _me_ you should be telling, now is it?”

“I know. I have plans.”

The firm determination in his voice makes North even more amused. Trust Markus to take _wooing his boyfriend_ so seriously, of all things. “Go get him, Romeo.”

 

The second part of rehearsal is slightly less successful than the first –Connor and Markus are getting quite tired and also frequently sneak kisses in between figures, which makes them lose momentum or timing.

North chastises them a few times about safety while Celine complains about having to restart the track over and over, but overall they have fun and it’s nice to spend time together.

Damn, one of these days they have to plan a full outing with the whole gang. Preferably before the Championship, so they can relax a bit before the big day.

There will be two main categories for the competition, singles and doubles, but each has a few subcategories: trainers, advanced teachers, and professionals or ‘elite’, as the organizers wrote because they weren’t full of themselves enough, apparently. It will span an entire day to give everyone appropriate time to shine. Singles will perform first, during the morning half, while the doubles will go from four p.m. to eight p.m., since the category is usually less populated. Winners are usually announced roughly two hours after that.

As a double competing in the elite doubles category, Markus and Connor will be among the last ones to perform… which is nerve-wracking, but at least it will give them both ample time to properly warm up their muscles and make up for the parts of their bodies where they would feel pain if not properly stretched.

Markus takes a deep breath once he comes down from the pole, finally admitting defeat for the day and lying flat on his back on the floor.

“ _God_ , I can’t wait to get that asshole Perkins to eat his own stupid necktie in rage.”

The fact that those are the first words he’s spoken in a full hour makes the other three lose it, enough that Celine actually doubles over and has to lean on North for support, while Connor just walks over to him and leans down to offer him a hand.

“He will. Plus, Elijah has been digging dirt on him for weeks; I wouldn’t be surprised if Perkins suddenly disappeared at some point.”

Taking the offered hand, Markus lets Connor pull him up so they can stand nose to nose. “Your friends kinda scare me.” He mumbles jokingly, to which the other just gives him a quick peck on the lips.

“And you’ve never seen _me_ mad, yet.”

Markus blinks in surprise, fruitlessly trying to chase Connor’s lips even after the other pulled away.

“That… makes me both afraid and aroused.”

 _Perfect_ , Connor thinks, smiling at Markus as he starts gathering his things to head over to the changing rooms.

He turns around just before going through the door: “Just never get on my bad side and you’ll be alright.”

Markus is content with watching Connor disappear out of the studio for a few moments, until North comes up behind him to pat him sympathetically on the back.

“Oh, Markus. I am proud of you for finally getting your shit together…” she starts, trying to keep her voice from breaking with laughter, “But my God, you’re gonna be so whipped.”

Her lifelong friend and dance partner surprises her by not taking the bait: he’s too busy staring dreamily at the door, and only two words come out of his mouth before he too takes his leave:

“Worth it.”

 

North is left shaking her head and laughing at those two love-struck disasters. At least they finally got the guts of confessing to each other. She starts gathering her clothes and putting them on, making a mental list of all the things she has to do before she can close the studio, until a voice nearly makes her jump out of her skin:

“Do you need any help?”

Right. Celine also stayed behind to help with rehearsal, despite not needing to.

“Oh no, don’t worry, I don’t want you to miss your train or something.”

“I don’t mind taking the bus.” She assures. Without North asking, she starts dragging the crash-mats away from the poles and folding them in [half](http://m-poledance.co.uk/685-large_default/m-pole-dance-mat-4-cm.jpg). “I came in with Connor, but he clearly has _plans_ for tonight.”

At first, North just laughs along with her, then she notices: Connor invited Celine to come with him despite knowing they wouldn’t be able to leave together, and Markus asked _her_ to stay behind specifically, when anybody else could have taken his place helping Luther close up the studio.

This is another set up.

Huh. Maybe Markus is learning a thing or two from Connor about being sneaky.

She can already tell those two will be a world of good for each other. Taking a deep breath, she decides it’s time to woman up.

“In that case… I appreciate the help.” She says, smiling at Celine from across the room while she starts unscrewing the poles from their position. “You know, there’s a coffee shop nearby that stays open until late. Do you wanna get something hot to drink after we’re done here?”

There’s the barest hint of a blush on Celine’s cheeks and North is instantly determined to see more of it, but the important thing for now is that she returns the smile and nods.

“I’d love to.”

On second thought, maybe this fresh wind of something new will be good for _all_ of them.

North can’t wait to see where this all goes.


	6. Making the Jump

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor can’t help the laughter that bubbles up in his chest. “North really is like the little sister you’d never want.”
> 
> “I know…” Markus agrees, “What would I ever do without her?”
> 
> Both of them receive a few more texts and encouragement from the crew, then it becomes time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> STILL ALIVE!!!
> 
> After a hellish week of visiting family, job instability and all around mad shenanigans, I managed to sit down and write something!!!
> 
> This had been left waiting the longest, so I'm doing this first.  
> Next AU update should come in a couple days, either the Monster AU or the other one.
> 
> The important thing is: I'm not dead.  
> And yes, I will finish all of these.  
> Next chapter for the pole dance AU will be the last, a nice little epilogue to wrap up all the loose ends, put Perkins where he deserves to be and have a bit of fun with the whole "meet the father" thing. ♥
> 
> Pls love me ♥ ♥ ♥
> 
> p.s.: I've tried to be as clear and simple as possible with the choreography description, but I've still linked the video for it at the relevant place in the chapter, and even repeated the link at particular time-stamps just in case. If anything is unclear, feel free to ask.

When he first saw the final costumes, Connor felt a little bit awkward— he still kind of feels like an idiot preparing his duffel and putting the prop katana inside it, and looks at Markus for reassurance:

“Are you sure this isn’t cultural appropriation or something?”

The laugh coming from the other’s lips is entirely too fond to be pissed at, but Connor still whacks Markus lightly on the arm. Not that it deters Markus any.

“I’m sure, Connor.” He says, responding to the punch with a caress at his boyfriend’s chin, “We’re not trying to say that we actually possess Japanese history _or_ their assassins, we’re just two idiots playing dress-up because ninjas are cool. And everybody knows that.”

So they’re basically cosplaying, on top of pole dancing. It pulls a smirk from Connor’s mouth –no wonder Markus places first or close to so many competitions: if _everyone_ is perfect or close to it, in terms of technique, creativity and showmanship can make or break a performance.

Dress rehearsal went well –they even confirmed the stage’s configuration so that Markus _does_ have a high place to sneak up behind Connor from. Despite competing in the afternoon, they still have to reach the theater in the morning to confirm signing up and make sure everything is in order in terms of lights, sounds and such.

Considering what went down with Perkins and what _still_ is happening, Hank advised Connor to insist that they have their own pole cleaners, to which Connor very much agreed— Perkins might not have the balls for actual foul play, but something that could be crossed off as negligence wouldn’t be past him.

The Jericho crew also supported the notion, and Simon and Kara got approved as their appointed pole-cleaners and first aiders… the one perk about having a history of a near-death injury is that no one will deny you reasonable help if there _is_ a medical reason.

Chronic shoulder pains, however well hidden, are indeed a medical reason.

He instinctively rubs at his own leg.

“All done! You’re gonna be the fourth couple for the elite doubles! Best of luck!” the registration booth assistant’s cheerful voice snaps Connor out of his reverie, and he manages to give her a small smile before following Markus along towards the performers’ changing rooms…

Well, that’s where they _would_ have gone had they not been stopped by a woman that Markus had never seen before but Connor clearly recognizes. He didn’t think it would get to him so bad, but he actually feels sick, up to feeling a bad taste gathering at the back of his mouth.

“Connor.” There it is, the impassively ‘polite’ tone laced with just enough condescension. “I didn’t expect you to be competing here… or at all.”

Meeting her gaze, Connor holds on Markus’ hand tighter and refuses to show a reaction.

“Amanda.” He greets back, studiously toneless, “You know how it is. Not _all_ studios write off people who survive injuries as ‘damaged goods’, and actually _help them_ instead.” He allows his polite, barely-there smile to show just a hint of bitterness as he continues: “Then again, maybe you _don’t_ know. I hear you’ve been losing more and more athletes to the school’s sub-par medical and mental care.”

Amanda’s face grows livid, and it’s so satisfying that Connor mentally thanks Elijah for that juicy bit of gossip –she’s too strung up about her reputation to make a scene, and she can’t really do anything about it, since she’s out of her depth: _if_ she tries to judge them unfairly out of spite, more qualified judges will likely counter her claims.

Just to make sure, Connor promises to himself to take extra care in pointing his toes.

Then Amanda goes for a low blow: “Well, we’ll have to see how good _your_ medical care is, when you try to heave your broken body up a pole. Best of—”

Before she can say the word ‘luck’, and thankfully before Connor could give into his impulse and do something that would get them both disqualified, Markus reaches a hand out to take Amanda’s and pretend-kiss it.

“I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure, ma’am. Markus Manfred.” He introduces himself, smiling like he wanted to charm her feet out from under her. “I nearly died in this very theater a few years ago, broke my neck in two places and went back to competing, despite having a bit of a stiff shoulder and chronic pains every other day.” Connor is absolutely flabbergasted to hear Markus disclose the very sensitive story to a complete stranger, but what comes out next is just too good, and it might be because of Elijah rubbing off on him: “I’ve been Connor’s teacher for the past few months and will be his partner in the competition. Now, I’m _sure_ I did not just hear you make discriminatory statements about people who suffered severe injuries that could ruin your reputation _and_ your career as a teacher, so we will just leave you be.”

Now, Amanda Stern is not easily cowed, but Connor can see her balk at the possibility. “Is that a threat, young man?”

“Not at all, ma’am.” Markus assure, only then letting go of her hand but keeping his mismatched gaze steely and trained on her, “It’s a statement of fact. If you’ll excuse us, we have to go and start warming up. You know us ‘damaged’ people. We need to stretch real good to be able to _heave our broken bodies up the pole_. Good day.”

He drags Connor away with him and the other lets him, still too shocked to do anything else: he’d never heard Markus speak with such venom in his voice, not even to Perkins himself.

 

The first thing Connor does once they reach their changing rooms is kissing the living daylights out of Markus. Barring his own father, no one ever stood up for him like that; and it fills him with such a rush of affection that he had to either kiss Markus or explode.

Markus isn’t at all complaining, after all, kissing back just as eagerly— anger and spite are easily harvested into arousal, though this might not be the best moment.

Not that it seems to stop either of them.

Markus’ hands slowly descend down Connor’s sides, pressure a hair harder than what it should be and blunt nails just about a hint short of leaving tracks. When he reaches Connor’s hips, Markus smirks against the other’s lips and shifts his grip so both his hands are under Connor’s buttcheeks.

Connor yelps in surprise when he feels himself getting _deadlifted_ by the ass.

“Wait— Markus—” he tries to hook his legs around the pole dancer’s hips, but Markus lifts him _higher than that_.

He turns so he can let Connor brace against the changing room’s wall and then maneuvers the two of them until Connor is sitting on his shoulders, but facing him.

At this point, Connor is kind of worried, holding one hand at Markus’ nape and the other flat against the wall behind him.

“Markus— your shoulder…”

“It’s okay… your thighs will keep it nice and warm.”

That is not really how it works, they both know it and Connor should probably point it out; but Markus is nuzzling his inner thigh as he speaks and one of his hands is already unbuttoning Connor’s jeans.

“You’re… _mm—_ you’re crazy…”

“Is that a no?”

“ _No!_ ” he’d be embarrassed about specifying he’s not saying no so desperately, but shit, this is too good to pass up, and Markus seems perfectly fine with holding his weight.

Well. This is happening now. He’s getting a ceiling-blowjob and the door is not even locked.

Much to the shame of a secluded corner of his mind, he only gets harder at the thought. Instead of going off on that particular tangent to wonder whether all performers have a small vein of exhibitionism in them, himself included, Connor tries to focus on bracing himself against the wall as much as he can, to avoid dumping all his weight on Markus’ shoulders while the other wastes no time freeing his cock from his pants.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

Connor can _feel_ Markus’ breath ghost over his dick and he’s losing his mind already. He bites down hard on his lower lip to prevent making any noise when Markus takes him in his mouth, and tightens every muscle in his legs on instinct, almost as if he’s trying to pull the other up with him rather than sit down on his shoulders.

Another distant part of Connor’s mind absently registers that this is actually a great muscle control warm-up for both of them— right before Markus gives an obscenely slow lick to his length and all breath escapes him in a gasp.

This will have to go down fast and dirty for obvious reasons –not only _anyone_ could stop by the changing rooms at any moment for varying reasons, but Simon and Kara are definitely on their way and arriving soon.

Connor can only hope he comes faster than they do.

“Ah— Markus—” it probably won’t be a problem though, since Markus just used the arm that isn’t holding him at the hip to push him closer so he could take _more_ of Connor’s dick into his mouth.

Connor doesn’t know if it’s the altitude, the unusual position, or the risk of getting caught, but he’s never felt this much out of his mind just from getting sucked off. He’s powerless to do anything but hold onto Markus with his legs, thighs burning with both the effort and the hot breath and little bites Markus left on them before getting that wonderful mouth to work.

His free hand is pawing fruitlessly at Markus’ nape and he’s a mess of stifled moans and stuttering gasps. By now, Markus has a pretty steady back and forth rhythm going along his length, and it takes most of Connor’s willpower not to buck his hips into the other’s mouth— not only he might choke Markus, but their position is already precarious enough as is.

Then Markus takes him even deeper into his mouth, almost all the way, and Connor’s last coherent thought is that they should win a goddamn medal just for pulling this off without hurting themselves.

From there, it’s just a few more seconds until his thighs are trembling with spasms in an effort to keep still and he’s just unloading all over Markus’ mouth.

He feels blissfully boneless while Markus lets him down to sit on a chair and calmly goes to the vanity and sink to wash his face before anyone sees him with a faceful of very damning evidence.

“I haven’t returned the favor…” Connor mutters, still mildly in a daze even as he composes himself, “Are you sure you want to wash up already?”

Markus lets the other come up behind him and welcomes the embrace, but shakes his head: “I didn’t do it so you would reciprocate. We were both worked up and it was a good way to let off some steam.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to… warm up some more?”

It’s a tempting offer, but they hear Kara and Simon’s voices as they make their way down the hallway and will come through the door at any second. Markus turns into the embrace and nudges his nose against Connor’s.

“We’ll have plenty of time for that _after_ , when we go out to celebrate our win.”

They’re met with their friends laughing good-naturedly at them.

“It’s good to hear you’re so confident, Markus!” Kara teases, wasting no time in finding a plastic chair to dump their health and safety supplies on.

The pole-dancer doesn’t break from the hug yet, opting for nuzzling Connor’s neck instead. “Oh we’ll absolutely win. We have _two_ bitches to prove wrong now instead of just Perkins.”

“Which reminds me!” Simon intercepts, “Connor, Elijah is already in the audience with the twins and he said to tell you that no matter what happens tonight, you guys will never have to deal with Perkins’ bullshit ever again.”

Markus looks at his boyfriend with a mildly disconcerted expression. “That’s… ominous.”

“Yeah, that’s about par for the course for Elijah.” Reluctantly, Connor disentangles himself from the embrace and bumps shoulders with Markus. “Come on. Let’s get those costumes on and start preparing for warm up.”

It’s probably overkill to take almost an entire day to warm up, but one can never be too careful. The first half of performers comes and goes through the changing rooms, which are big enough to host several performers at once and have about a dozen cubicles for changing, but Markus and Connor still go out to watch some of the amateur performers from backstage and muse which ones of them could go pro if they really wanted.

The morning passes pretty slowly, but after the lunch break they actually take a permanent residence in the changing rooms and spend it between jumping jacks and push-ups first, then stretches and [splits against the wall](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/BtgrRdNCMAAnXcp.jpg) after that. Then, Markus starts getting cocky and challenges Connor to keep up with him doing _handstand_ push-ups, which is… as bad as it sounds: getting into a handstand, and then lowering and rising from the floor, arms-only.

Idly, Connor muses that it says a lot about their community that none of the other performers find it weird to see two guys doing handstand push-ups against a wall while waiting for their turn to compete.

He’d probably never admit it out loud, but he’s thankful for the friendly atmosphere and safe environment –this is nothing like ballet, but still the memories of competing alone fight to resurface and he remembers always being so alone, with only his father to be there for him and support him…

None of this would have happened if he hadn’t met Markus, and however much he dreads stepping on the unfamiliar stage, Connor could not be more grateful if he tried. It’s gotten comfortable enough for him that, when Markus kisses his cheek as he whispers to him that he’ll go get something to drink from both of them down at the theatre’s bar, he smiles and nods, distracted by a text from Hank:

_» Just arrived at the place. I’m in fourth row, apparently. Can’t wait to see you smoke all these fuckers and then meet your boyfriend._

Gosh, Markus finally meeting his father will be… an experience. But one Connor looks forward to with a smile.

 

Markus is just waiting for the barista to get him orange juice for two –he doesn’t mind the wait, performers and customers in general are coming and going, so he just stands there patiently and waits his turn. The singles are not done performing yet, the announcer just said there would be a ten minute break to clean the stage and poles before the advanced category; and the doubles don’t start until _that_ is finished too.

“Well, well, well… you _actually_ stuck with it.”

Of fucking course, the one thing that could ruin his mood. Richard Perkins.

“Contrary to _others_ in this very room, I’m a professional. I don’t flake out on my word.” He tries very hard to keep his voice level, mentally wishing for the barista to hurry the hell up, just this once.

Perkins, oblivious to the fact that the pole dancer is thinking up imaginative ways to eviscerate him, or maybe thriving on it out of sheer dumb ego, just sneers at him. “And who exactly are you performing with? Aren’t you joined at the hip with your little Russian friend?”

Markus doesn’t bother mentioning that, while her parents are from _Ukraine_ , not Russia, North was actually born in the States, so she’s as American as the two of them. Instead, he enjoys the fact that he can look _down_ at the man and moves to take his drinks once they finally get served on the counter for him.

“Well, I would love to stay and chat…” he almost hisses, voice clearly expressing that he really wouldn’t, “But I have to get back to my warm-up and prepare for the pole checks.”

“Ah, of course… you wouldn’t want to get hurt or anything, would you?”

It takes a great deal of mental fortitude for Markus to turn slowly and _not_ get violent. He speaks slowly and with such an icily cold tone that he can almost feel the temperature dropping and hopes the other man does as well:

“Tread _very_ carefully, Mr. Perkins. One time can be written off as negligence. Twice is attempted murder, especially with a controversial precedent, and a history of generally being a jackass. You wouldn’t want to lose your livelihood or go to _jail_ , would you?”

That shuts the sketchy theater owner pretty good, but Markus is still silently fuming when he goes back to the changing rooms –and, more importantly, to Connor.

He wordlessly places their drinks on their corner of the vanity table and steps into Connor’s space for a hug, all without uttering one single syllable.

The rush of amused affection is quickly replaced with concern once Connor manages to see his boyfriend’s cloudy expression.

“Is something wrong?”

Markus nuzzles into him some more, breathing deeply in and out. “I just ran into that asshole Perkins. He pissed me off a little, just let me hold you and I’ll be alright.”

Someone who was changing not too far away makes an ‘aww’ sound at them, while another dancer who heard the name Perkins also complains about the sleazy theater owner being a rude, misogynistic piece of shit, and Markus slowly lets the anger peel off him thanks to the familiar, comforting environment and Connor’s even more comforting arms.

“We’re _so_ gonna win this shit.”

The burlesque girls who are scheduled to go up first as a duet even wish them the best— the thing about pole dancers, is that they stick up for each other, and despite them keeping it on the down low to avoid trouble, unofficial word of what Perkins did to North and Markus has spread, and now _everyone_ would love to see that asshole fall from his comfy jackass chair.

They spend the last hour making sure their make-up is perfect, making conversation with Kara and Simon, and texting back and forth with the guys out in the audience:

_» I may be banned as a performer, but Elijah and Chloe got me a ticket, so I’m sitting in the audience with my date and can’t wait to see you two wipe the floor with these bitches._

Connor can’t help the laughter that bubbles up in his chest. “She really is like the little sister you’d never want.”

“I know…” Markus agrees, “What would I ever do without her?”

Both of them receive a few more texts and encouragement from the crew, then it becomes time.

Markus pulls up his mask, and they head backstage as the announcer thanks the audience and takes their time calling out their name and their studio, listing some of Markus’ past wins and Connor’s achievements as a youth ballet teacher; while Kara and Simon dutifully make extra sure that the poles are spotless _and_ well-secured.

Markus and Connor share a look, take a deep breath, and get into position.

 

Their performance [starts](https://youtu.be/YogNigyLUYg?t=19) with a soft flute, Connor is the first one visibly walking on stage, his costume comprising only of the black shorts, crisscrossing straps all over his chest and the prop sword at his back –Markus is hidden up on the pole-support scaffolding, seemingly ‘stalking’ Connor like an assassination target. His chest is completely bare, but he’s wearing long black latex pants and ninja-like shoes.

Connor moves slowly and fluidly on the floor, standing up and taking just enough time to unsheathe the prop-katana from his back and present it to the audience before Markus jumps down behind him to a heavy drum beat. The music doesn’t quite pick up yet and they go through a few figures in synch, reaching out to opposite sides and then moving their arms in a sort of totem fashion until Connor slowly kicks a leg behind him and around, which Markus narrowly dodges and follows on the floor, discreetly swiping the prop-katana and setting it out of the way.

As Markus crawls to the static pole, Connor is already getting into a sideways pose onto it, top foot flexed behind the pole and bottom foot pushing against it, ‘standing’ at the pole’s side in a wide stance –once he finds his balance, he takes his arms off the pole so Markus can heave himself up and slide through the space between his legs and the pole in a cradle position, showing off both their respective strength and their coordination. Markus settles on the side opposite to Connor and they both switch their grip and go into mirroring frog poses as the tension in the song picks up.

A steady and fast drum beat starts, and they are ready to go absolutely crazy: first Connor collapses down in a low roll behind the pole while Markus frontflips over him to the other side using the pole as a support, then they do the same in front of it until Markus is back to his original side and gets into an elbow supported split. The move Connor suggested a change for back when he was watching them. He’s got a smile on his face as he braces a hand against Markus’ hipbone and assumes pretty much the same pose on top of him, before kicking out of it and pirouetting himself on the floor, while Markus stands up in a barely-there windmill motion. They spin once around the pole making a wide fan with their legs, touch the floor in opposite ‘fighting’ stances, and then go back to the pole for one more spin that starts with both their bodies far away from the pole and ends with each one wrapping one leg at the pole and one around the other’s hips.

Once they land, Markus offers his back for Connor to roll sideways on, then he uses Connor’s left ankle as a support for vaulting over to his other side, then Connor kicks that same leg high above Markus’ head in a wide arc and goes for a low spin around the pole, which Markus also ‘dodges’ once by dropping low and the second time by jumping high in a backflip at the following turn.

The drums get faster, Connor barrel-rolls away from the pole and Markus goes for the climb.

As soon as he’s properly settled at the very top, Connor also climbs the pole up, but he lets go of it once he’s close enough to take Markus’ hand.

With Markus’ help, Connor kicks out and away from the pole, in an impressively wide aerial pirouette that has the audience quietly gasping and lands it flawlessly back on the pole in an outside leg hang, twisting around until he’s upside down with the pole firmly between his legs and ankles.

The rhythm is kicking up even more, it’s almost time. Connor completes the movement by jumping down in a crouch, before sitting down and working his way to a laying position, while Markus lowers himself just slightly and extends his arms to get a good swing going.

Connor counts down in his mind. The drums are almost peaking. Markus extends his legs, swings once… and uses that momentum to propel himself up and out in a backflip, brusquely but soundlessly landing over Connor on all fours, [exactly](https://youtu.be/YogNigyLUYg?t=117) as all music ceases for a second.

They did it. The hardest part of the choreography is done. There are loud ‘ooh’ and ‘aah’ sounds from the audience, but Connor doesn’t care. Right now, it’s just the two of them, the pole, and the stage under their bodies.

The music resumes, slow and suggestive, and this time Connor has no trouble slowly sneaking both hands behind Markus’ neck and one foot around his knee as they raptly look at each other. He gives a small pull to the side and they roll over twice towards the front of the stage.

Markus parts his lips slightly when Connor slowly but deliberately lowers his mask— he has half a mind to kiss him, but he’s a professional; so he just does that thing he always does, crawling over the other without really touching but exuding very clearly the feeling of what he would very much like to do.

He hasn’t forgotten about Connor’s offer to ‘celebrate’, later, even though they’re both very much focused on the dance now.

Still on the floor, they utilize the lull in tempo to rest while they do floorwork, and Connor moves his legs to the side and over both of Markus’ shoulder, in a way that is now _very_ familiar.

Instead of going all the way up, though, Connor stays hanging upside down over Markus’ body, and they kind of look like some kind of four-armed, two-headed folk demon, which is accentuating by Markus taking sideways steps to make Connor deliberately swing in front of him –the creep factor is accentuated by their firm stare ahead, doubly so for Markus’ two-colored eyes, and by how Connor lets his hands barely touch the floor with each swing, moving them as if they didn’t belong to him.

Eventually, Markus turns to the side and sits down, which lets Connor lower in his lap with his back arched across his boyfriend’s knees  –also not a bad place to be– until Markus leans all the way back and lies down, allowing Connor to lean forward and handstand against the spinning pole.

He hooks one leg and starts up a slow spin, making it a point to lightly brush a hand over Markus’ chin when he comes around the second time before the other has to slip away, the action reflected by the almost romantic tune that’s going on.

Markus rolls away and lets Connor turn himself right side up, only for him to invert again a bit up higher. Keeping his bad leg coiled around the pole, with a hand on the outer side of it for added protection, Connor arches back and grabs his other ankle with his free hand, making a beautiful diagonal shape.

This is the second most challenging part of their choreography, mostly because it could go very wrong, very fast due to their respective injuries. Markus’ shoulder feels a bit stiff as he threads an arm through the gap formed by Connor’s joined hand and foot, but it doesn’t stop him as he follows the spin through and lets Connor be his support while holding his _entire_ body out for the spin, first with his hand against the pole, and then, after a couple of steps touching down on the floor to boost the spin, without any support at all except from Connor himself.

The audience’s astonished cheer sounds muted and far off, but it’s definitely _there_.

Markus doesn’t hold that position any longer than he has to, so he crumbles to the floor as if escaping a trap and Connor is free to straighten himself out in a full split, holding himself diagonally against the pole still.

The drums slowly start returning, and Connor shifts in place, bending his knees and curling up almost in an upside down fetal position but not quite, dropping down just enough for Markus to leap over him and climb the pole using his arms alone, while Connor stays down and goes back to a perfect upside down split, holding on with the inside of his arm underneath himself and his thigh pressing firmly inwards against the pole.

Beneath him, Connor adjusts his position some more, while Markus subtly uses his feet to make the pole spin faster. As soon as they have a good speed going on –and in perfect time with their drums kicking back in– Markus reaches one foot down, which Connor uses as a brace for his armpit to keep himself upright as he once more entrusts himself entirely to Markus: he puts a foot out in front of him, firmly planted against the pole as they still spin, and then extends his other leg behind in [yet another split](https://youtu.be/YogNigyLUYg?t=210).

It basically looks like Connor is defying gravity and doing a split mid-air, while still spinning around the pole’s axis.

Markus reaches out his other foot and completely takes Connor’s wait as the other also pretends to ‘walk on air’ briefly, before the rhythm kicks back up full force and they both completely break position and roll down.

They both go back to the static pole and use it as a pillar between them while they jump and flip in opposite directions; then Markus kneels by it and lets Connor basically use him as a stepladder to climb all the way up to the very top.

As he does that, the slower melody comes back, and Connor expertly braces himself so he can extend both his legs out in a fluid motion, giving off a perfect feeling of suspension while Markus gets into position just underneath him.

The lone instrument reaches its highest note, and two things happen simultaneously: Connor loosens his grip enough to drop sharply until he’s barely a few inches from the floor, and Markus leaps upwards to take his place, making the audience gasp in awe one final time— and not even letting them recover from the shock fully, because soon after Markus ‘unceremoniously’ drops almost on Connor, who moves away with perfect timing and moves to recover the prop sword, to point it at his supposed ‘enemy’… but the final blow never comes, Connor ‘somehow just can’t’, and the performance ends there.

The applause is deafening, now that they can actually relax and hear it.

As they take their bow, Connor glances in the judges’ direction. They’re all either clapping enthusiastically or looking on completely speechless.

Amanda is doing the latter.

 _Take that, you cold hearted witch_.

Kara and Simon greet them backstage with excited shouts and tears in their eyes.

“That was beautiful!!! Absolutely fucking flawless!!!” it’s a rare sight to see the normally quiet and shy yoga teacher be so excited and bombastic, but Connor is pretty damn excited himself, and greets the high-five half way while Kara hugs Markus like a big sweaty teddy bear.

Connor still can’t quite believe that this guy, this wonderful absolute mad dog of a man, convinced him to not only start dancing at high levels again, but also helped him find a balance within himself that truly made him _happy_ with who he is and where he stands, enough that he found the confidence to compete at an elite level.

If there ever was a moment to realize that he really is in capital-L Love and say it, this would be it.

Instead, what leaves his mouth is barely more than a breathless whisper: “You did it, Markus…”

Markus grasps him firmly at both shoulders and gets almost nose to nose with him.

“ _We_ did it.” He corrects, preferring to kiss Connor instead of wasting any more words.

They still have to wait for the judges’ final verdict, but whatever will happen they will walk away with the knowledge that they performed to their absolute best and will have one _kickass_ video to remember this by, courtesy of their friends –and probably Hank, too.

Other performers also congratulate them, and they all share the tension of the wait as the last few pairs perform and get their chance to shine.

All performers get the chance to go back to the changing rooms, freshen up and maybe change out of their costumes, while the judges take time to deliberate.

Markus and Connor are in their reserved seats holding hands tightly, when head judge Anastasia Sokolova steps up to the mic and starts announcing the runner-ups for doubles.

Their names are not called.

But just as Connor was about to start doubting himself, Miss Sokolova glances in their direction.

“And the first place winners for the elite double category, in this International Pole Championship are…” she is slightly struggling to open the envelope but chuckles, “Sorry for the suspense, I’m sure it will surprise no one… there!”

Connor feels Markus’ hand tighten its grip further and sees his boyfriend close his eyes.

The verdict comes: “The performers for Jericho Dance and Fitness Academy, Markus Manfred and Connor Anderson!”

Out of everyone’s shouts of cheer, North’s is probably the loudest.

Elijah is a close second, both in volume _and_ pitch.

“Come on, gentlemen! Work the stage!” Anastasia’s coaxing finally spurs them into motion to go and accept their trophy, stunned as they both were, despite all their tall talk and supposed confidence.

They hold hands as they accept the trophy with one hand each, and Miss Sokolova recognizes Markus as the winner from two years prior.

“Welcome back, Markus!” she says enthusiastically, “New partner?”

He smiles and nods. “North is just over there, cheering for us like the treasure she is, this time. This is Connor.”

Connor is no stranger to the stage, but it’s been a while so he does discreetly swallow on nothing before he can actually say something:

“I… haven’t been long with the Jericho crew, but I can honestly say they’re the best thing to ever happen to me in a long time…” he didn’t think he’d get so emotional over this, but he’s actually struggling to keep it together, “And all I can say is that I’m honored to be sharing this with Markus and the rest of the crew. Hopefully the first of many.”

Someone in the audience, most likely North –or Hank– starts applauding loudly, and it turns into a crowd-wide thing pretty fast. The head judge follows along, happily encouraging it.

“Give it up for all our winners!” she exclaims, motioning to all the people already on stage who took their own bow, “The International Pole Dance Federation thanks you all for attending this event and all our wonderful athletes for participating! Thank you so much for this amazing evening!!!”

Music starts playing to accompany the performers’ exit stage and to give the audience a background of sorts while they slowly file out of the theater hall.

Connor is smiling so much that he almost thinks his face will get stuck like that.

But the night is not over yet, not for them—

—and he can’t wait to see how Markus and Hank get along; hear what crazy shit Elijah has been up to, how are things going between North and Celine…

So much to do, he barely knows where to start.

“Hey kiddo! You killed it on that stage, I could not be more proud.”

Oh no, wait, he does know: “Thanks dad. This is Markus. Markus, this is my dad, Lieutenant Hank Anderson.”

Markus looked less apprehensive when he was five meters up in the air.

This is going to be fun.


	7. Best foot forward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Who would’ve guessed that a chance encounter and a conversation at a bar would change his life so much?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY Y'ALL.  
> First off  
> This is SHORT.  
> Like only 1.3k words short.  
> I could have probably squeezed this at the end of last chapter, but it's been one hell of a few weeks.
> 
> I won't get into details.  
> Just.  
> Take this.  
> At least it's closure. ♥  
> I have _two_ more AUs in progress and _two more_ have been incepted into my mind by the rk1k discord.  
> Goddamn it all.  
> Take my love ♥

 

Lieutenant Hank Anderson is not a particularly imposing figure, standing a good few inches shorter than his soon and looking a good deal squishier… and yet Markus feels intimidated in his presence.

He doesn’t know whether it’s innate in any father figure to just exude a quiet aura of authority or if he’s simply terrified of fucking up his first ‘proper’ impression on Connor’s only family, but fact remains that Markus can barely bring himself to speak, once Connor introduces them.

“I… it’s an honor to finally meet you, Lieutenant.”

Squeakier and less confident than he would’ve liked, but he hasn’t put his own foot in his mouth yet.

The man shakes his offered hand maybe just a tad bit tighter than what would normally be comfortable, but Markus lets him establish dominance while shooting a sideways glance at Connor.

“Please, just Hank.” The Lieutenant assures, “And likewise. You have no idea how long Connor has been yapping about you, an endless river of _‘Markus this’, ‘Markus that’_ … maybe now he’ll shut up.”

“Dad!!!”

At their side, North snorts quietly. “You should have heard Markus gushing about Connor to us. It took them _months_ to get their head out of their asses.”

Oh goodie, now both he and Connor are equally mortified. Markus shakes his head. “We’re trying to have a moment here, _Jelena_.”

“You can have a moment _and_ get made fun of, блять.”

“I thought we weren’t being mean?” Celine asks her in a half whisper.

North shrugs: “Markus makes it easy.”

Simon and Kara are already laughing, while Markus discreetly covers his face with one hand for a moment.

At least Hank seems to find it amusing. “Hey. It’s okay kiddo. If you had never done anything embarrassing in your whole life I’d doubt you were at all human.”

“Hard habit to break… having to look effortless at all times.” Markus shrinks in his shoulders a little, with no success, but Hank is looking fondly at his son, and that same affection turns to him as well.

“I may have heard that once or twice before.” The man comments, clapping a hearty hand on the pole dancer’s shoulder, “You don’t have to do that with me, I’ve seen up close what it’s really like.”

That alone makes a surge of warmth rise up through Markus’ chest. “I’m glad Connor had someone like you supporting him along the way.”

“Hey, that’s supposed to be _my_ line, kid.”

“Okay, stop that, you two are weirding me out.”

Both of them turn towards Connor with a confused expression.

“You okay?” Markus asks, just the slightest bit worried, but it evaporates pretty fast when Connor points an ‘accusing’ finger at his father.

“You would be threatening jail time or dismemberment, at this point. This is way too wholesome, where’s the punchline?”

It sends Hank into a full-on laugh.

“Son… that’s something I used to do to the snooty douchebags you used to date in ballet school. Call me crazy but Markus doesn’t strike me as that kind of guy.” Markus bows his head, almost honoured by the assessment until Hank adds: “Plus, dude looks like he could crumple me like a goddamn soda can, don’t think he’d be intimidated much by little old me.”

It’s out of Markus’ mind before he can stop it. “You’d be surprised.”

“Oh?” Hank’s brow rises at that. Right, Connor did mention that despite his imposing stature Markus abhors violence in general. He can also clearly see that Markus is a good kid and he and Connor are as happy as he’s ever seen two people in love be. He still puffs up his chest and smirks. “Consider yourself warned then, boy.”

It’s ironic that _that’s_ the thing that puts the pole dancer at ease. Markus laughs heartily and nods.

“Duly noted, _sir_.”

There’s a small lull in conversation as they all start making their way out, until Celine asks:

“Wait. Where’s Elijah?”

A cursory look around has Connor nearly jumping out of his skin.

There Elijah is in the theater’s foyer, Chloe at his side, smiling and having casual conversation with none other than Richard Perkins. Connor wonders what the hell is up with that only for a moment: he recognizes that smile.

Elijah can be a very expressive man when he wants to, and right now that smile is saying _“I’m going to gut this sucker like a fish and use his balls to make a pearl necklace for my girlfriend.”_

They exchange polite goodbyes and Perkins looks on the verge of shitting himself.

“What the hell was that?” Connor asks as soon as Elijah is in range.

His friend’s evil grin is only second to the barely contained glee in Chloe’s blue eyes.

“That? Nothing, I just congratulated Mr. Perkins on his _last_ night as a theater owner being such a rousing success.” Only up close Connor realizes that Elijah is holding an A4 manila envelope, which he turns to Hank with. “Speaking of! Lieutenant, you probably can help me with this. I have incidentally come across proof of multiple accounts of tax evasion and several sexual harassment controversies regarding Mr. Perkins. He’s already agreed to step away from the business and will soon find a buyer for most of his facilities in Detroit to avoid scandal, but I have advised him to cooperate with the law as much as possible in resolving these very serious legal matters.”

Markus and North share shocked looks –it’s clearly been a busy few months for Elijah. Connor wasn’t kidding when he said his friend was resourceful to creepy levels.

Hank shakes his head and accepts the envelope like it isn’t the first time this happens. “You really should consider joining the force.”

“It’s no fun if it’s legitimate.” It’s all Elijah says with a wink. “Drinks?”

Now _that_ is something Markus can agree with. “On me. First round goes to Kara and Simon.”

“Okay but let’s keep it to a minimum, yes? Alice has school tomorrow.”

“I’ll drink enough for us both!” Simon offers good-naturedly, earning a punch to the arm.

Markus lags behind a small bit. Connor has, on more than one occasion, thanked him for barreling into his life and making it better and fuller— Markus would respectfully call bullshit on that.

Yes, maybe he had his shit together and was still doing what he loved… but up until he met Connor, all Markus ever did was working. And then working some more. He loved every second of it, but there was literally nothing else.

Ever since meeting Connor, Markus has learnt to appreciate the life around him more –everything, from classes with his students to training with his friends; or even babysitting little Alice… it’s like he’d been living a black and white life, and Connor brought color to it.

Who would’ve guessed that a chance encounter and a conversation at a bar would change his life so much?

“Markus?” Connor’s voice calls him back from his musings and to the here and now. “Is everything alright?”

Let’s see… they just placed first in an international competition, that asshole Perkins will never bother him again, and, of course, they are happy and together.

Vaguely, Markus remembers Connor being at that bar because his friends had managed to convince him to try something new. He couldn’t be more grateful for the people around them.

Eventually, he nods. “Couldn’t be better.” He whispers, grabbing Connor’s hand and bringing it to his mouth to brush his lips against the other’s knuckles.

“Hey, _Assanova!_ You two lovebirds coming or not?!”

The familiar nickname makes both of them laugh.

“Yes, we’re coming, jeez!” Markus shouts back, falling into step with the others hand in hand with Connor, “You just lost your complaining privileges whenever I’m a cockblock!”

Their laughter and banter gets soon lost in the lights and sounds of the night, and Markus takes the time to breathe it all in.

His shoulder still hurts every other morning, and he almost always wakes up with a sore arm or a crick in his necks, but this is his life. Good and bad, ups and downs…

he wouldn’t exchange it for the world.


End file.
